Finders Keepers
by ink-and-ash
Summary: Our beloved duo meet in college under some . . . unusual circumstances. Involves things like character development and humor. You've been warned. Booth/Brennan alternating POV. Rated for language, content, language and eventual sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:**There will be cussing. There will be violence. There will be sex. And there will be a great many liberties taken with the characters we know and love, and the world they live in. Just go with it.

**Summary:** Seeley Booth is in college working towards his required degree for admission to the FBI and he crosses paths with one Temperance Brennan. Told from alternating points of view, starting with Booth.

**Disclamer: **I don't own Bones, if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfic would I?

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><p>Seeley Booth was no stranger to parties. The parties he and his housemates threw were well known in the area, and frequented by students from the nearby colleges. It didn't hurt that the house was <em>built<em> for parties; a three story five bedroom colonial with a wraparound porch, massive yard and wrought-iron fencing.

The social standard was nonexistent for them, and people who normally wouldn't go near a party put on by guys in a _public_ university would drive across town, just to be able to say they were at one of _their_ parties. It could have been that Booth and his housemates were at least four to six years older than most of the students who came to their parties, lending them an air of sophistication. Or that they had all been in the Army, though not in the same unit, making them knight like and mysterious. And of course many of the girls at the party had pronounced 'Daddy issues', and wanted an older man. Whatever it was, Booth and his friends knew how to throw a damn good party. There were enough people lining up these days that the guys at the gate could be exclusive with who they let in, filling the house with athletes, artists and beautiful scantily clad women.

Seeley Booth, however, was bored. He stood on the landing above the main floor, watching the crowded mass of bodies move below him like a single being. He remembered when he had thought these parties fun, when he would have been at the sweaty center of the mass on the floor. After his breakup with Rebecca this had been is only sanctuary. And he had relished it, losing himself in acres of flesh, miles of legs, and the sweet amnesia of drunken sex; but in the end all that had left him hollow. As though the girls he had tried to use to fill the hole Rebecca had left had only widened and deepened it until it became a gaping abyss of . . . nothing. And now no one would ever, could ever, be enough to fill that; to make him happy.

He leaned against the wall, dreading even making an appearance at the party, and wondered if anyone would notice if he didn't show._ The guys certainly would, and I'd never hear the end of it. No; I have to go, if only to avoid the third degree tomorrow morning. _

He sighed as he began down the stairs and through the house, _If it wasn't for horndogs like Sully and Walt we probably wouldn't throw these things anymore._ He sidestepped a group of young women wearing more makeup than clothes and made his way through the rooms, too deep in thought to pay attention to the people around him. _ These girls are too needy, no self respect, no drive. Ugh. I need something new, something different. _

He dodged through the kitchen to the rear patio and breathed a sigh of relief. It had become a habit for the senior guys in the house and their friends to share a bottle of Scotch and a few cigars on the covered patio. He walked toward the card table and trimmed his cigar into the ashtray and lit it with a match before pouring himself two fingers of Scotch.

"What did I tell you?" Charlie began, "Nothing worth chasing. It's the same girls over and over and over."

"Where have you been Seel? Don't tell me it's that blonde again? What is it with you and blondes?"

Booth sank into his favorite chair, one of the five old chairs and recliners that had been sacrificed as outdoor furniture.

"Shut up Walt." Booth let the blue smoke escape into the air around him, "I was thinking about hiding in my room."

Walt laughed, gagging on his Scotch, Booth grinned, messing with Walt was always good times.

"So where's Sully?" Charlie looked around expectantly.

"Bro has some flexible standards; he may still be in there." Walt coughed, still recovering from the Scotch.

"I didn't see him as I came through; he's probably off with Drew, planning some idiotic practical joke." Booth rolled the cigar in his fingertips and looked at Charlie.

Charlie leaned back in his recliner, "Fuck, that's just what we need, another one of his jokes. You guys remember the Noodle Incident?"

Booth looked darkly at Charlie, "What part of 'this never happened, we're never speaking of this again' did you not understand?"

Walt, still laughing at Booth's reaction, stood and stretched, "We should probably see what he's up to, just in case."

Booth carefully put out his cigar and glared at Charlie, "I'm going for a walk."

"Do you need a buddy to go with you? Just in case there's a watermelon?"

"FUCK YOU."

Charlie collapsed against his chair, laughing at Booth's retreating back.

Booth walked down the porch toward the side of the house, still fuming over Charlie's inability to keep his mouth shut, when he heard a noise.

_Is that . . . giggling?_

Booth slipped around the corner to see Sully and Drew hauling what looked like a body along the side of the house to their car. He walked to them as quietly as he could, not wanting to draw attention from Charlie. With his luck this would be yet another prank that Charlie would _also_ not shut up about.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"SHHHH!" more giggling, "Look what we found, man."

In the shadow of the house Booth got no help from the street lamps to tell much about the person they were carrying, other than it was small, probably female, and completely unconscious. Sully was obviously wasted, and when he got wasted he got goofy. And Drew, well, where Sully went Drew followed. Booth sighed and thanked every saint he could think of that he happened to be mostly sober. He looked down at the girl they had found, passed out, somewhere on the property. Sully carried her shoulders, and Drew had a tentative grip on her ankles.

"Where did you find that girl, and what the hell are you doing?"

"She was in the bushes." Drew tossed his head in the direction they had come, "We're going to keep her."

"You're going to what now?"

"Keep her." Drew grinned, pleased with himself.

"You know, take care of her, wash her hair, get the dirt off of her, feed her . . ." Sully gazed down at the unconscious girl, a dreamy, wistful look in his eyes.

"No, you're not."

"Why?"

"Because she's a person, not a dog, and you guys are drunk. You're in no condition to get her anywhere. She stays with me."

"oooOOOoooohhhh I see how it is," Sully met Booth's eyes, "you just want to take her to your room and have her to yourself, is that it?"

"What? No that's not –"

"I'm ashamed of you Seeley Booth; she could be a nice girl! You can't, I won't let you. She's mine, I found her. Finders keepers!"

Arguing with Sully was difficult when he was sober, as a drunk his logic was near impossible to follow. But Booth knew the kind of trouble that would come from Sully and Drew taking any girl home in their condition, let alone one that had no say in the matter.

"You can't keep her."

"But I'll take care of her."

"No."

Drew looked at Booth, dejected and pitiful. "Why not, we're good guys."

"You're _drunk_ guys. She stays with me, here."

Booth scooped the girl up in his arms, not listening to Sully and Drew commiserating behind him. He knew Drunk Sully would try and get him back, if he remembered what happened. But Booth wasn't worried, all he had to do was get to Sober Sully and explain what happened, and things should be alright.

Booth made his way through the house to the stairs, taking the girl to his room. The locks on the doors ensured that no one, not even Sully, would get in; it was the one place in the house where he knew for sure no one would take advantage of her prone state. As Booth walked up the stairs he noticed for the first time how light she was, her head rested on his shoulder, and it looked for all the world as though he was just carrying his date to bed.

_But she's not my date, she's some kid who had way too much to drink._

What Booth didn't see, what no one saw, was the man with brown hair and a tailored blazer silently fuming as he watched Booth carry the unconscious girl up the stairs.

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><p><strong>Author Note:<strong> Gods I am so nervous. I hope you like it, I've never shared my fanfic before, so this is all new to me. If you have experience as a Beta and some free time, I could probably use one, please let me know if you are interested. Thank you for reading!

**Edit:** I noticed a few typos and fixed them, if you find any more or anything that reads in a confusing way, let me know so I can fix it!


	2. Chapter 2

**THANK YOU!  
><strong>For all your wonderful reviews. I try to respond to all of them, if I don't it's because you have PMs turned off.  
>And now, on with the story.<strong><br>**

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><p>Temperance Brennan stepped out of the shower onto the plush bathmat, her skin turning to goose pimples in the cold air. She dried off briskly, ignoring the change in temperature; she had more important things on her mind.<p>

Putting her hair up in a towel she looked through her closet with a critical eye. If he had asked her to a seminar, a museum, a speech, a hike, honestly _anything_ other than a college house party she wouldn't have to think about clothes.

_Michael Stires._

She thought once more about his request for a date, his choice of this weekend because she was alone and, presumably, bored. Although unexpected, his offer to take her a party made her blush with excitement.

Michael was already halfway through the graduate program, and he would sometimes TA in her archaeology practicum. He was one of the few people that Brennan could talk to without censuring herself so as not to confuse or offend them. She regularly had watched him in the fleeting minutes before her class began, astonished at his social ability. He related to and easily conversed with people not his intellectual equal. Additionally he was well respected by the professors, college staff and of course the other students, particularly the women. When word got around that she had gone on a date with him, Brennan had no doubt that she would be the envy of her peers.

It was the party itself that concerned her. _The last time I was at a party we had cake and ice cream and we played pin the tail on the donkey. What am I supposed to do?_

Brennan sat on her bed and stared at the open door to her closet, the pull for the light swinging like a pendulum, reminding her that her time before Michael appeared was quickly dwindling.

_I need to have a purpose, as reason to be there above and beyond being Michael's date. _Brennan flushed, "Michael's Date", _it sounds even better when I say it out loud. _

"Michael's DATE" Brennan giggled involuntarily, excitement tingling in every inch of her extremities. She could not deny her desire to go so far out of her comfort zone, if only to be 'Michael's date'. It only took her a few moments to convince her inner self to go; all she needed was a reason.

_Perhaps if I use this opportunity to observe the subculture of 'house parties' in particular the parties put on and attended by college students, this evening might turn out to be educational as well as enjoyable. _

She looked once more through her closet, but she knew there was nothing in there that would be within the prescribed parameters for attire at a college party. Usually she wouldn't have minded not dressing like the other women at an event, _but if I am going to research the interactions and responses of the cultural group that frequents these parties, I need to look the part._

There was only one thing for it. Brennan walked, naked, through the apartment to her roommate's room. Angela was an artist, eclectic by nature, and she _loved_ clothes. Fortunately they were about the same size, with only one long standing rule, _borrow whatever you want, but wash it and return it._

In spite of the expansive selection, or perhaps because of it, Brennan found herself wishing Angela was there for guidance. But she was at "The Submersion Artist's Retreat: one week of being one with nature." Brennan shook her head at folly and pulled dresses across the rack, removing five that looked like they might be appropriate and carefully placed them on Angela's bed.

She took the top dress and tried it on. On the hanger it had looked simple, almost conservative, but once it was on Brennan saw how wrong she was. The sheer back was covered in intricate beading covering yet revealing everything from her T1 vertebrae to her sacrum. The rest of the dress was made of a stretchy black material that hugged her hips and posterior like a second skin, pulling taut across her abdomen, narrowing as it crept up her breasts to enclose her neck in a choker. It was certainly sexy, but there was something Brennan couldn't put her finger on, something was wrong with it, she ran her hands down the sides, across her belly and up to her neck, when it suddenly hit her. The fabric should have been tight across her breasts, instead it was loose, puckering over her cleavage. She stared in the mirror, second guessing the wisdom of her decision.

_Maybe this is a bad plan. There are other things Michael and I could do, and I have no real interest in studying this particular subculture in such close quarters. _  
>She turned sideways in the mirror; the dress taunted her.<br>_My lack of disproportionate fat deposits are certain to give me away. But Michael has his mind set on attending this party, and if I tell him I would prefer another activity he will most likely attend without me. There is no question as to whether or not he will be able to find attractive company, and he will remember me as someone who is 'no fun'; and consequently not ask me to do anything in the future. _

Her brother had always pointed out that, of the two of them, she was the grown up, despite her considerably younger age. Even going so far as to suggest she didn't know how to have fun with anything other than her studies.

She pulled the dress off and, fighting the urge to wad it up into a ball and throw it on the floor, put it back on the hanger and returned it to the closet.

_No. I _can_ have fun, I'm not as 'uptight' as he believes me to be. I'm doing this, I'm going to attend this party and I _will_ have a wonderful time. _

She grabbed the next dress on the pile and eyed the chain straps and nonexistent back. It looked like a handkerchief caught on a necklace. She thrust it vengefully back into the closet without even trying it on.

She looked through her remaining selections, _Damn it Angela, why couldn't you go somewhere with cellular reception. _

Brennan sighed and looked at the top of the pile, holding up the top dress she found that it was actually a long shirt; she returned it to the closet and turned back to the bed. There were two remaining dresses, one look and she seriously considered calling the whole evening off, one looked like ocean blue lingerie and the other looked like it had been made from a disco ball.

She tried them each on; they both fit well, but both revealed more than she was comfortable with. The blue certainly brought out her eyes, but it looked _too_ much like lingerie. Brennan was, in most situations, proud of her body and comfortable showing it off. However she had no desire to walk around in public wearing what looked like underwear. The disco ball dress, on the other hand, was cut like an elongated tank top. The silver spangle and bead covered black fabric stopped at the tops of her thighs, leaving her long legs very exposed. As she turned in the mirror the spangles caught the light along the curvature of her iliac crest, down along her posterior to the hem of the dress, turning the opposite direction the same flattering highlights appeared at the swell of her breasts, making her look _curvy._

_This could actually work; with the right accessories I could certainly _look_ like a party girl. What I really need now are the right shoes._

The shoes were easier; in the three foot pile of shoes on the floor of the closet she found a pair of Louboutin knock-offs; black peep-toe four inch heels with silver accents. Armed with the disco ball dress and the red soled heels she walked back to her room, checking the time on the way.

_8:30, that gives me more than adequate time to do my hair and makeup._

After carefully laying out the dress, shoes and jewelry, Brennan shook the towel off her head and grabbed her makeup bag.

Forty-five minutes later she was standing in front of her full length mirror, assessing her reflection with a critical eye. The heels altered the curvature of her back, making her posterior and breasts seem bigger; that, added to the effect of the spangles, gave her the appearance of a different person all together. Her auburn hair cascaded from the crown of her head to below her shoulders is soft waves. The black stones of her earrings slipped through the silken strands and caught the light. She gave her hair an experimental toss, watching as it fell back into place, she smiled at her reflection. Her grey-blue eyes stood out against smokey shadow; in contrast she had selected a golden toned rose, only slightly darker than her natural color, for her lips and a soft bronze blush for her cheeks.

_I actually look the part. This evening should prove fascinating._

She picked up her purse and pulled out her ID and the sixty dollars in twenties she had gotten from the ATM earlier in the day. She carefully slid them into a concealed pocket Angela had sewn into the lining of the dress.

_Angela would be so proud._

Although Brennan seriously doubted having 'mad' money and her ID would be necessary with Michael, she had made a promise to Angela that she would always have those two things on her person whenever she went on a date or to an event of any kind.

"_You never know," Angela had said, "What if your purse gets stolen? What if your date's a creep? What if you want to leave suddenly? Always have enough cash for a cab and your ID on your person. It's saved my ass on more than on occasion." _

Even Brennan had to admit to herself that it was good advice. And as she was going to what was oft termed a 'wild party', the probability of getting separated from her purse was higher than she was comfortable with. Lost in thought and nerves Brennan almost missed the knock on her door.

_Michael Stires is here for our DATE!._

Brennan checked herself in the mirror one last time and walked out to meet Michael. _. _

There was no mistaking the surprise in his eyes when she opened the door, she could almost feel him look over every inch of her.

"Temperance, you look amazing."

She smiled shyly at Michael, "Thank you. You look wonderful yourself."

Michael's dark hazel eyes danced as he watched her look at him. He had been very careful as he dressed; wearing fitted dark jeans and a tight shirt to best show off the physique that he worked so hard to maintain.

_He is very attractive. His musculature is well maintained, he obviously takes good care of himself. _

Brennan gripped her purse and stepped into the outer hall, closing the door behind her. She thought she felt his eyes on her buttocks, but when she glanced back at him over her shoulder he met her eyes and smiled at her.

She turned back, shaking her head, she must have imagined it.

_So what if he looks? _Her inner self taunted her. _You wore this dress for a reason, and NOT because you want to fit in at a college party._

Brennan took a deep breath as she walked out the door, quieting her inner self, and allowed Michael to help her into his car.

Sitting in his Prius was something of a challenge. It wasn't until she was physically in the seat that she fully realized just how short her dress truly was. There were only a few inches of fabric blocking her panties from being in full view of Michael and the world. She felt a flush creep up her neck; _This dress was a bad choice. I never wear things like this, why did I pick tonight to start?_

Brennan knew why, and her inner self wouldn't let her forget it. _You have a silly schoolgirl crush on Michael and would do anything to be next to him. You're no better than the girls you're pretending to be tonight, and now he's going to treat you like one. _

_Shut up. Michael asked me out because of my superior intellect and the common interests we share._

_Yes,_ the inner voice responded,_ but that's not why he'll take you home._

Brennan muffled the voice, willing it to remain silent for the rest of the evening.

Michael had originally planned on engaging Temperance in conversation on the drive to the party. But now that they were in the car he found that he couldn't keep his eyes on the road and off her legs. It took all his willpower not to pull the car over and touch her everywhere. _She couldn't have dressed any more perfectly if I had picked out the clothes myself._

Brennan concentrated on the city as it flew past her window, she felt _naked_ and _uncomfortable_, so much so that she didn't even notice the silence in the car. She was so absorbed with her state of undress that it wasn't until Michael opened her door that she realized they had arrived.

Michael had pulled on a blazer, the dark tailored lines of the jacket drew more attention to the teal shirt stretched over his pectoral muscles. Brennan couldn't help but look. Michael looked at her knowingly and offered her his arm. Blushing she took it and together they walked through the wrought iron gate.

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><p><strong>Author Note:<strong> Hope you like the new chapter. (really really hoping, so nervous, I'm just worried you're all going to think that I let you all down. _)  
>You should keep the reviews coming, not only do they make me more confident in my fic, they make me feel obligated to write, which gets you chapters faster. ;D<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my goodness. I heart my reviewers!  
><strong>So many of you have alerts for this. And favorites. I'm so flattered. I heart you all too!  
>This chapter has a little angst in it. Ok . . . maybe a lot<br>Point being, this is not an "angsty" story, or it would be under that heading. So just bear with it.  
>Fair warning though.<p>

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><p>Seeley Booth closed the door with his foot, the limp girl in his arms. He engaged the deadbolt lock with his elbow and breathed a sigh of relief.<p>

_Ok, no Sully to worry about. Now I just have to put out this little fire right here and then it's back to cigars and Scotch for me._

He navigated over the piles of dirty clothes and around stacks of textbooks and past the occasional pizza box to his empty bed. It wasn't made, but at least it was clean.

_Well, really, it's not as though I thought I would be bringing a girl up to my room tonight. _

He shifted her weight in his arms, cradling her head in the spread of his hand as he eased her onto the bed as gently as he could. As he withdrew his arm from under her knees his wristwatch caught on one of the spangles near the hem of the dress. He unhooked his watch and straightened his back, glancing at the girl as he did so.

He hadn't gotten much of a look at her in the dark shadow of the house, and he had been too busy avoiding people on the ground level of the house, not to mention being worried Drunk Sully was going to jump out at any moment with a can of shaving cream, to get much of a look at her. Now, in the bright light of his bare bulb floor lamp, any thoughts he had had about making it back to his cigar and Scotch vanished.

_Damn._

Her soft auburn hair was fanned over his pillow, falling away from her face in waves. Her fine delicate features seemed out of place on a passed out party girl. The hard, worn skin and fried hair sported by nearly every girl downstairs were missing.

_Maybe she just doesn't usually go to parties. That could explain why she's so drunk so early in the night, no alcohol tolerance. _

The spangles on the dress caught the light and glittered in his eyes, drawing his attention to where the dress stopped abruptly with her legs; her ridiculously long legs that ended in red soled shoes.

_Those damn shoes. _

He could see her in his mind's eye, this nameless unconscious stranger, wearing nothing but those shoes.

_I am a bad man. _

Booth closed his eyes, hoping that she would disappear, but she was still there, burned into his corneas.

_Fuck. I need to get laid._

Another, less pleasant thought occurred to him, what if she wasn't here by accident, chance, or fate. What if this was someone's doing?

_Goddamnit Sully if this is another prank or if you set this up . . . . I am seriously going to murder you. _

There was really only one safe way out of this, Booth sighed, his head in his hand; this was going to be a long night. He pulled out his phone and without taking his eyes off the girl on his bed, punched the keys and hit send.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Camille, I need a favor."

"Depends on what it is Seeley."

"I need you to come over, and don't call me Seeley."

"I can't, I have to study for an exam, and don't call me Camille."

"Fine. _Cam_, I really need you to come over."

"Look, Booth, normally I'd be down for a quickie, but I really do have to study."

Booth's cock twitched at her words, _Down boy._

"No Cam." Booth paused, not sure how to describe what happened, it was so bizarre, "Sully and Drew found a girl in the bushes, I got her away from them and now she's on my bed."

The phone went briefly silent, "Come again?"

Booth sighed, "Apparently, this girl passed out in the bushes, Sully and Drew found her and were dragging her to their car. I told them to fuck off and brought her in here."

"Where is 'in here' Booth?"

"My room."

"And then what?"

"And then nothing, I called you."

"Why?"

"When I put her on the bed she didn't move, didn't make any noise. At all. She's completely limp." His voice lowered to almost a whisper, "I don't know what to do."

"Okay. Can you get a pulse?"

"Hold on."

With two calloused fingers he felt her soft skin for the the pulse point in her neck and counted her heartbeat.

"How many beats per minute?"

"Twenty maybe twenty-five. Cam, that's really slow."

"Ok, Seeley I need you to be honest with me. How much have you had to drink tonight?"

"A sip of Scotch, not even a finger. Why?" Booth knew the answer as soon as the question was out of his mouth.

He was checking for his wallet and keys when Cam responded, "You need to get her to the Hospital, now."

They both knew that cops and ambulances came in pairs at this time of night, especially on weekends near the college; and cops would be more trouble than they were worth. It wasn't as though everyone downstairs had a valid ID; a great rack was just as good as an ID to the guys at the gate.

Booth looked at the girl on his bed, "I'll have her there in ten."

"Call me when you know how she's doing."

"Thanks Cam."

He hung up and stuck the phone in his pocket. He did one last visual and mental sweep around the room, _Testicles, spectacles, wallet and watch, yep . . . good to go. _

He unlocked his door and opened it, checking the hall for Sully before returning for the girl. Booth scooped her up once again in his arms he walked out onto the landing and started down the stairs.

It was Walt who saw him first; Booth had his "Don't Fuck With Me" face on.

"Uh oh." Walt turned and grabbed Charlie, "We got trouble man."

They wove through the crowd to Booth, it was Charlie who spoke first, "What, and, the fuck is this shit?"

"Later. I have to get her to the hospital."

Charlie hissed as he sucked in a breath and began walking just in front of Booth, discreetly moving people out of his path. Seconds later they were out of the house and on the walk to the carport, Walt grabbed his elbow, "Dude, anything I can do?"

Booth stopped and looked Walt square in the eye, "I want to know who she came with, what she drank, how much and who she talked to; and I want to know when I get back."

Walt shrugged, "Done."

As Walt walked back into the party; Charlie helped Booth get the girl into his SUV.

"I'm going to help Walt; he's not as good with information as he is with people and things."

Booth nodded, "I'll call you as soon as I know if we should be calling the cops or not."

Charlie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yeah. Ok."

He turned and walked back into the house, Booth watching him go.

_Not twenty minutes ago he was giving me shit about the damn Noodle Incident, now we've got some mystery girl with alcohol poisoning. Fuck my life._

Booth's '05 Chevy Tahoe roared as he revved the engine and gunned it out of the drive and onto the street, hauling ass to Rush University Medical.

The drive only took a few minutes; it was nearly a straight shot from the house to the Ambulance bay at the ER. Booth parked the SUV in a handicapped spot, not giving a shit about a ticket. He carefully got the girl out of the truck and carried her through the sliding glass ER doors. A few people sat in the colored plastic seats, but patients and nurses both turned to look when he came in the door.

_I must look like hell. Amazing what a night like this can do to a guy._

A nurse came up to him holding a clipboard, she smiled calmly as though young men came in with girls in party dresses all the time. She pointed with her pen at a gurney along the wall, "Go ahead and put her on the gurney over there and fill out what you know on this form, and then turn it in at the window."

Booth put the girl on the gurney and picked up the clipboard.

_Name, don't know that. Birthdate, don't know that. Weight, at least I can guess an answer that one. Damnit. _

"Nurse?"

The nurse he had spoken to moments ago walked over to him, "Yes? How can I help you?"

"I, uh, I don't know any of this information."

The nurse looked at Booth, confused.

"We, I, found her at a party, passed out under some bushes. I've never seen her before."

The nurse felt for the girl's pulse, then walked briskly over to the desk and spoke a few whispered words to the attendant.

She returned to Booth's side with a fresh clipboard and pen, "Please tell me everything that happened tonight, starting with when you found the Jane Doe.

_Jane Doe, that's what they call dead people without names. _

Booth felt the world fall away around him, this nameless girl he had never met had enchanted him, the thought of her dead, before he had even learned her name, dead because of something that had happened at _his_ home at one of _his_ parties, it was as though he had killed her himself.

_I don't . . . she can't . . . . please God don't let her die. I can't handle being responsible for her death too. I can't do this again, do you hear me? I've had enough. If you take her, I go too. _

In the distance of the real world he could hear the nurse trying to get his attention. But he just stared at the beautiful girl lying motionless on the gurney. Suddenly there were people all around her and she was blocked from view. He heard them speaking, but it all sounded like a strange foreign language. He watched they pushed her through the double doors, the white, spotless, sterile double doors, and he sat, stunned, in a blue plastic chair as the doors slowly swung to a stop.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.


	4. Chapter 4

**OH MY GOSH** I adore you all. I can't believe how much you all like my little story. I just hope I keep performing at your standards. Keep up the reviews, it all impacts my writing. I'm sorry this took so long to update. It was a difficult chapter for some reason, and I had to get it to where I liked it.

**Also**; do you remember me saying I was taking liberties? I meant it. I know much of what's going on doesn't fit with the time line of the show, and in some cases I have _rearranged _chunks of people's lives. That's why the story is AU, it's not intended to match. Just clearing that up. (This doesn't mean I love those reviews any less . . .)

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><p>Temperance Brennan's apartment smelled of pine and canvas, rain incense and simple green, oil paints, turpentine, and coffee. Without opening her eyes Brennan knew; she was not at home.<p>

She was surrounded with the simultaneous odors of illness and astringent cleansers. _Disgusting._

She experimentally opened her eyes and immediately regretted it; _It is intolerably bright. What possible purpose could it serve to have the room so brightly lit?_

She covered her eyes with her hands and spread her fingers ever so slightly to facilitate pupil dilation. As she waited, slowly spreading her fingers and allowing her eyes increasing degrees of light, she did a mental assessment of her condition.

She could feel a throbbing pain along her supraorbital ridge, down through her nasal bone and sinuses, her entire cranium seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. Her abdomen felt as though it had been hit very hard with something very heavy, multiple times.

_Headache, light sensitivity, abdominal pain, I believe I am 'hungover'. No wonder Angela is so irate after a night of excessive drinking. I must remember to be sympathetic to her condition in the future._

Brennan groaned and pulled her hands down her face; as though the tactile contact would assist in soothing her pain.

It didn't.

She winced as her pupils slowly finished dilating and the room came into focus.

Everything was white and sterile, silent except for the chirp of a machine to her left. Brennan frowned, thinking involuntarily of the last time she had been in a hospital. It was not a pleasant memory.

_At least I can check myself out this time._

To the right of her bed was a bank of large windows, _That explains the inordinate amount of light in my room. _

Absently, she scratched where the IV was inserted in the median vein of her arm.

_How did I get here? What happened?_ _Was I in a car accident? _She looked over her arms, hands and legs, _No visual abrasions or contusions, and aside from the symptoms associated with excessive alcohol consumption and dehydration, I cannot isolate the sensation of physical pain anywhere on my body. _

Brennan took careful stock of her surroundings, _Heart monitor, ok. Saline drip, ok. Catheter, why is there a catheter? Hospital gown, no bra, no panties._

Brennan jabbed the red button on the arm of her bed with her thumb, paging the Nurse's station down the hall. "Someone will be right in," came the polite, emotionless, disembodied response.

_I seem to be in a standard hospital room; therefore I most likely did not sustain any sort of severe physical trauma. The only other logical possibility being that I ingested too much alcohol. _

Brennan's thoughts were interrupted by a slightly overweight, short, middle-aged Nurse, "Good morning, it's good to see you awake. I'm Denise," she paused to write her name on a whiteboard on the wall next to the bed, dotting her 'i' with a little heart. "I'll be on shift until after you go home."

She smiled kindly at Brennan, "Let's check your vitals and then the Doctor will be in to see you."

She gestured for Brennan to sit up; with a stethoscope she checked Brennan's lungs and breathing.

Brennan breathed as deeply as she could without being prompted.

"Ok, follow my finger with my eyes, don't move your head. Good. Now look right at me," She pulled out a small flash light and flicked it across Brennan's eyes, first the right, then the left. "Ok. Great. Can you walk?"

Brennan nodded hesitantly. "I think so."

The laminate floor was cold under her unsteady feet, her toes curled against it. Brennan was overcome with vertigo, she grabbed the bed and waited for it to subside. Nodding to reassure Denise, she took a couple of hesitant steps and found herself completely capable of walking under her own power.

"Good. Let's pull the catheter out and you can go to the bathroom. I need you to pee into the cup on the back of the toilet, just to make sure your system is clear."

_Clear of what? A blood test would be more accurate to test my sobriety._

Brennan wheeled the IV rack along with her on the short walk to the bathroom, using it to steady her still questionable balance.

Regardless of her own opinions, Brennan dutifully urinated in the cup and carefully returned it to the back of the toilet, then extensively washed her hands and exited the bathroom.

Dragging the IV back with her as she returned to her bed, she saw that a woman in a white lab coat had joined them. The woman reviewed Brennan's chart, then lifted her face to meet Brennan's eyes, "Hello, I'm Dr. Johanasson. Can you please tell me, what is the last thing you remember?"

Brennan returned to her bed as she thought about the question, "I prepared for my date with Michael, he picked me up and escorted me to a party. After that, I don't know. I drank something with vodka in it, I believe. Truthfully don't remember much after we arrived."

Brennan knit her fingers together in her lap and looked at Dr. Johanasson and Denise, "I feel I have been extremely patient and compliant up to this point; will one of you please inform me of my medical condition and how I was admitted?"

Dr. Johanasson looked at the Denise, "I'll take it from here."

Denise nodded and left the room, pulling closed the privacy curtain as she left.

Dr. Johanasson flipped to the second page of Brennan's chart, "You were brought in, unconscious and unresponsive, with a dangerously low heart rate and respiratory distress."

Brennan sat, stunned. "What was my blood alcohol content?"

Dr. Johanasson looked at Brennan, "Point oh nine."

"What? Then how-?"

"You were given a large dose of Rohypnol, more commonly known as roofies or 'the date rape drug'; the dose was too large for someone your weight. Had you not been brought the hospital when you were, the drug, in combination with the alcohol in your system, would have killed you."

Dr. Johanasson waited while the weight of what she said sunk in; it was a lot of information and most of it unwelcome.

_The date rape drug? Angela told me about that once. Rapists and 'bad guys' can mix it in a drink, that's why it's popular for sexual assaults. But why would someone put that in my drink? _

_Unless . . . _

Brennan suddenly felt very cold. _  
><em>

"Was I raped?"

"No. You have no evidence of physical trauma of any kind."

Brennan felt relief, and anger. _I may not have been raped, but someone intended to harm me, and nearly killed me._

Dr. Johanasson prepared to hedge the next, inevitable, useless question, as she had a hundred times before. _How could this happen to me?_ She hated that question; she never had an answer to it. That was a question for a shrink, not a doctor.

"What sort of treatment did I undergo?"

Dr. Johanasson's eyebrows lifted in surprise; that was certainly _not _the usual question.

Brennan looked at the doctor expectantly with somber, flinty eyes.

_I will not victimize myself, I have not done so prior to this, and I will not begin now. _

"Your stomach was pumped to remove any unabsorbed Rohypnol and alcohol. You were given intravenous saline and diuretics to flush your blood stream of the drugs." She flipped back to the front page of the chart, "It looks like you've made a full recovery, your vitals are all back within the norm. We'll run another urine test to be sure, but it looks like you'll be going home in the next few hours."

There was no mistaking Brennan's relief, _I'll be fine. This is nothing compared to the rest of it. I can handle this._

"Do you have any other questions before I go?"

Brennan shook her head, thinking.

"Oh! There was one thing."

"Yes?" Dr. Johanasson turned in the door and looked back at Brennan.

"Is Michael still here?"

"Michael who?"

Brennan looked at her, confused, "The young man who brought me in."

"I don't know about Michael. The name we have for the young man who brought you in is," Dr. Johanasson looked through the chart, "Seeley Booth."

"Who?"

"You don't know him?" said Dr. Johanasson, her eyebrows raised.

"No, I don't know anyone by that name."

"Well," she smiled, "He must be your guardian angel then, because his actions are what saved your life."

Brennan opened her mouth to correct Dr. Johanasson, that she did not have a guardian angel because angels were fictitious. But then remembered that 'guardian angel' could be a colloquialism for someone who helps another without the expectation of reciprocation. By the time she thought to ask Dr. Johanasson if that was what she meant, the doctor was gone.

Brennan looked out the window, running through the night again in her head. Michael must have gotten a drink that had Rohypnol in it somehow. _But how? Michael had no reason to drug me, I was already planning on having intercourse with him, I am sure my manner of dress made that clear. I suppose it could have been an accident, but people don't randomly hand out drinks with Rohypnol in them at parties, unless I have been seriously mislead by Angela regarding the status quo of college parties. Why, then, would someone drug my drink and then leave me alone? I must be missing some crucial information, because nothing about this seems logical. _

Brennan didn't notice that Denise had returned until she said something, "Are you doing ok?"

"I believe so. This is not how I anticipated spending this morning. But it could undeniably be worse. Therefore yes, I am ok."

Denise blinked in surprised, taken aback by Brennan's logic.

"Dr. Johanasson tells me that you've never met your knight in shining armor?"

"My what?"

Denise looked at her utter bafflement and smiled, "The young man who brought you in. Would you like to meet him? He's still in the waiting room; he didn't want to leave until he knew you were going to be alright." Denise looked at Brennan with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye, "He's very handsome, I can let him in if you like."

Brennan looked down at her hospital robe. _It's longer than the dress I had on last night. _

She blushed, embarrassed.

Though she did not usually care overmuch for the opinions of strangers, the actions of this man in the waiting room, this Seeley Booth, were beyond reproach. She wanted to meet him and thank him for unquestionably saving her life.

_However, I think I need legitimate clothes and a shower before I interact with anyone; particularly someone with which I have no previous acquaintance, particularly in light of of what he has done for me. Regardless how attractive he may be. _

_Sure, _her inner self added, _the fact that he's handsome has nothing__ to do with why you want to wait to meet him._

Brennan squelched the voice, _I cannot deny the anthropological appeal of being rescued by an attractive male, if the nurse is accurate in her assessment of him. However given the events of last night I would prefer to meet him on my own terms.  
><em>

She looked at Denise, "I would rather not meet him in my current state. But if you could please tell him how I'm doing I would appreciate it."

"Of course. I'll be back in to check on you later, if you need anything just page me." Denise smiled and walked out the door, leaving Brennan alone with her thoughts.

Brennan sat, waiting for her labs to come back as she tried to find and answer to the question she found suddenly dominating her thoughts, _Who is Seeley Booth?_

_Seeley Booth brought me to the hospital._

_Seeley Booth saved my life. _

_Seeley Booth stayed all night in the waiting room to be told if I lived or died._

_Seeley Booth is out there, right now, waiting for me._

Brennan gave pause, her thoughts of Seeley Booth giving way to the one thing that had been hovering in the periphery of her mind all morning,_ Where was Michael last night, and where is he now?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Guys!** Sorry about the delay, this chapter was being _really_ uncooperative. Plus I had finals, then I got sick, then my husband watched like, four consecutive hours of ridiculous hospital dramas which totally threw off my writing. I had to watch ALL of season two to get it back. Then this morning I ran out of coffee. Honestly RL was just being an all around bitch. Anyway, here's the next chapter (hooray) I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you for reading, and please, please review!

**This is dedicated to bonesmd007 and everyone else who made it through finals!** **Brennan would be proud!**

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth smelled coffee. Strong, glorious, life-giving coffee.<p>

He rubbed his eyes with his left hand, _I must have fallen asleep. The last thing I remember is talking to Cam after I called Charlie. How many hours ago was that?_

Booth looked at his watch, _eight am; I've been out for over four hours._

He rubbed the back of his neck, it ached after a night asleep in his chair, he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Mr. Booth?"

Booth dropped his hand to see a brown paper cup with thick black liquid being held out to him. He took it, cringing as he swallowed what tasted like burnt tires and sweaty gym socks.

"This is awful." He looked into the soft grey-green eyes of a middle aged woman in pink scrubs, "What did I ever do to you?"

She smiled back at him, "It's better than nothing."

"I don't know. Nothing might actually be better in this case." Booth eyed the cup contemplatively, "Is there anywhere else to get coffee? I could use some that won't pull the enamel off my teeth."

"There's a donut shop across the street, that's the only place within walking distance."

Booth nodded and stood up, _the donut selection won't be great at eight am, but decent coffee will make up for that. _

"Would you mind some company? I'm on my break."

Booth stretched his back, twisting from side to side, "Sure, I guess."

As they exited the hospital she held out a hand to him, "I'm Charlotte by the way."

"Booth." He took her hand and shook it politely, "Nice to meet you."

She withdrew her hand from his and stuck both hands in the pockets of her scrubs, "Has anyone told you anything about the girl you brought in?"

"Not since the ER nurse told me she was stable and being admitted."

Charlotte nodded, "She's doing well. She woke up about a half an hour ago, and she should be discharged this afternoon."

"That's good to hear." Booth felt a weight lift off his shoulders, _awake is good. She's probably hung-over all to hell, but that'll wear off._

Charlotte had continued talking, and he had missed it, "What was that?"

"I asked if you really _don't_ know the girl you brought in, not even her name. We're all dying to know."

_Is she kidding? I thought this was a hospital; don't people have to work in hospitals? Although, on those TV shows that Tessa watched, they gossiped more than they work; maybe that part's true._

They crossed the street in silence, Booth in thought, and Charlotte letting him think. He opened the door and held it for her; the donut shop was empty this late except for a couple of old men. She bought coffee for both of them, along with a couple glazed old fashions and a maple bar.

Booth added about three tablespoons of sugar to his coffee and looked up at Charlotte as he stirred it with a bamboo stick.

"No. I've never met her before."

"Ah. So why are you still here? I mean, you could have just gone home, no one would have thought less of you."

Booth chewed thoughtfully on his donut, "What should I do? Leave her? That's how she got into this, think about it, someone just _left_ her. A friend, boyfriend, whatever, let her pass out in the bushes, and didn't do a thing about it."

"So, the rumor that you found her under some bushes is true?"

He sighed, "Yeah, I did."

"Wow. So are you going to stay until she's discharged?"

Booth shrugged, "You said she should be getting out this afternoon?"

She nodded, "Or a little earlier, depends on how fast they can push through her paperwork. We always need beds, so, she could be out in the next couple of hours, I don't know."

"I'll stay; make sure she has a ride home and all that."

"Well that's nice of you."

Booth flashed her one of his 'don't I know it' kind of smiles, "I try. So, can you tell me her name? Calling her "that girl I brought in" is getting a little awkward."

"No, sorry."

Booth shook his head, "I understand. Just, let her know I'm here if she needs a ride home."

Charlotte smiled, nodding her head, she looked at the watch on her left wrist, "I have to go back on shift. But I'll make sure to pass along your message."

Booth smiled in return, "Thanks."

He finished his coffee and walked back to the hospital and sat in one of the taupe chairs along the wall; _Nope, still not comfortable. Oh well, only for a couple more hours and then I can sleep in my own bed._

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his watch, _I hate hospitals. It takes forever for a minute to go by, and then suddenly, it's two hours later. _

He looked up. A nurse, not Charlotte, stood in front of him.

"Hello, I'm Denise, Temperance's nurse."

Booth looked at her blankly, "Who?"

"The young woman you brought in, her name is Temperance."

_Temperance? What kind of a name is Temperance?_

"How is she doing?"

"She's doing fine. She's being discharged as we speak."

"Do you think I could see her?"

"She said that she would rather not meet you while she's still in the hospital. But said to thank you and to tell you that she is recovering nicely."

"Oh. Well I don't feel right about leaving without her having a ride home. So if it's all the same to you, I'll stay."

Denise smiled at him, "I'll let her know."

Booth continued to wait, a few people had joined him in the lobby waiting area, scattered over the taupe chairs. Close enough to each other that they didn't look totally alone, but too far to have a real conversation. With nothing to read, Booth let his mind wander as he watched the TV permanently cued to the weather channel.

He was vaguely aware of the endless trickle of people walking in and out of the two large sliding glass doors to his left. At least until raven haired goddess walked through them, moving through the lobby like she owned the place. She stopped briefly at the hospital map, Booth could see her confused pout from across the room and even at this distance he felt compelled by it. She walked to the reception desk to ask a question, _Probably a room number. _

As she spoke to the on-duty nurse she bent over the reception desk, balancing her weight on the toe of one _very_ high heel, her right leg was bent holding her other foot aloft near her round, very hot ass. She bent over a little further, the hem of her skirt creeping up higher and higher; _If she bends over any further I'm going to be able to see her panties._ Booth shifted uncomfortably in his chair._ Christ Almighty I need to get laid._

Booth glanced furtively around the room; _At least I'm not the only one checking her out. _

She stood up, thanked the nurse with a wave of her hand, walked brusquely to the elevators and pushed the 'up' button with one slender finger. Booth couldn't help but stare as she waited; her weight on one foot as she tapped the other impatiently, jostling her ass up and down like a basketball. She had the entire room under her power and he was no exception.

Suddenly her elevator appeared, the spell broken by the 'ding' of the arriving car. She spun as she got in, her attention immediately fixed on Booth. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled knowingly at him; they moved over him, inch by inch. He could practically feel her on him, everywhere, his pants felt instantly tighter.

Booth's face opened in a wide smile, slightly higher on one side, he leaned back in his chair confidently, returning her roving gaze with his own. _That's right, get out of the elevator, come over here and pretend you're waiting for someone. Pretend you're not interested.  
><em>

But she didn't. She stood in the elevator car, her eyes locked with his until the doors began to close. In the shrinking inches, he saw her wink at him with her left eye and toss her hair back over her shoulders.

_Damnit. I should have gotten her number. What if she doesn't come back before I leave? I suppose I could ask one of the nurses to pass the message on for me, but that'll probably look bad with the whole Temperance thing. They all think I'm some kind of hero. I should ask her for it myself anyway; maybe skip the whole date and jump right into bed, I wouldn't say no to that._

As he thought about the best way to get his phone number to the stunning woman who had walked through the lobby, she returned.

"Seeley Booth?"

_God, she's so hot when she says my name. Wait, why is she saying my name?_

Her eyes scanned over the waiting area, "Seeley Booth?"

Booth stood up and sauntered over to the woman, "Yeah?"

"You're Seeley Booth." She stated, obviously shocked.

"Yes I am. What can I do for you?"

She held out a piece of paper and a pen, "You can give me your phone number."

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile his most dazzling grin, "What're you going to do with it?"

"I am going to go upstairs and give it to my roommate, who you brought here last night, so she can call you after a shower and some clean clothes."'

_Roommate?_

Booth was suddenly struck by a vision of both women walking around his room wearing heels and nothing else.

_This has got to stop. Maybe I should take up Cam for that quickie, it'll clear my head._

He ran his hand roughly through his hair. "Roommate huh? So are you taking her home?"

"Yes." Her smile lit her face, "And she's not going home until you leave. She's currently taking a shower and getting changed, and then we're going to go, so _you_ need to leave right now."

She waved her hand towards the door in a 'shooing' motion.

His smile faded a little bit, _So that's it. I get to go home with . . . nothing.  
><em>

"I promise to have her call you. Really."

He raised his eyebrow and leaned against the wall, "And if she doesn't?"

"If she doesn't, then I will." She smiled and shifted her weight, every inch of her embodied sex.

She stepped backwards into the elevator, her eyes not leaving his.

"What's your name? You know, so I know who's calling me."_ Smooth Seeley, very smooth. _She laughed; a deep throaty laugh, not mocking or cruel, but genuinely amused at his question.

_ Or not._

"I'm Angela Montenegro. Nice to meet you Seeley Booth."

The doors slid closed and Booth was left with his own reflection.


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTE:** Emily D. is pregnant for reals, please stop vetching about how the Bones finale disappointed because she was prego, but you saw no sexy time. Emily D. is like four months along, she doesn't WANT to do sex scenes. Go re-watch End in the Beginning and get over it. That's what I did.

rant over.

**I'm sorry** this took so long. The hospital makes everyone uncooperative. Even my muse. No matter how much Pandora I feed it. Ah well. Hopefully the next chapter will come together faster.

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan had placed her dress and shoes on the bed and come to the painfully obvious conclusion that she would need a different set of clothes to return home in.<p>

The confidence and adventurism that had spurred her to choose the dress the night before was now gone, and in the sterile light of the hospital room she knew there was no way she was ever putting that dress on again. Or indeed any dress for a rather long time.

_My judgment would have had to have been sincerely compromised for me to have chosen that dress last night._

She sighed.

_Regardless of my confidence in my previous decision, I will not wear that home._

She was suddenly struck by something Denise had said as she had handed her the discharge paperwork, _"Mr. Booth is still in the lobby waiting room, he said that if you need a ride home, he'll be more than happy to take you."_

Brennan shifted her weight on her feet uncomfortably. She didn't do well with strangers, she didn't do well with people she'd known for years; even she knew that. There was nothing that could entice her to ask a stranger for a ride home, regardless of what he had done for her.

_Besides as I need someone to bring me clothes, there is no logical reason for me not to have them drive me home as well. I don't need his help any more, I am quite capable of taking care of my own problems._

That put her in a predicament. She had precisely one friend.

One single solitary friend who she could trust implicitly; but that friend was currently out of the question.

_Given my circumstances, I would be most at ease with someone who I am familiar with encountering when I am similarly indisposed. However, my options even within those parameters are very limited. _

She sat on the bed and went through a mental list of the other students with which she shared her general living space. Then she isolated those who she would be comfortable sharing her situation with, without being concerned that the story would make it to their peers on campus.

_It seems my options are limited to Sweets or Zach._

Brennan sighed and fell back on her pillow, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, neither option was preferable. Ideally she would prefer to have Angela come to retrieve her, but that was out of the question as Angela was in Great Falls National Park, 'communing' with nature; _Which is ridiculous, one cannot communicate with inanimate objects. That includes nature. _

She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing nasal bone with first and second fingers as she weighed the pros and cons of calling Sweets versus calling Zach.

_Zach would have to make use of public transportation, whereas Sweets has a car. But Sweets will attempt to have a conversation about the events of last night, how I feel about it, and then he will feign some sort of sympathy in an effort to delve into my past. _

_I hate psychology. _

_Zach on the other hand, won't continue to ask questions after I tell him to stop, and I can discuss coursework and projects with him for the duration of our trip home. With Sweets, if I refuse to discuss the events of last night and my emotions regarding those events I'll end up being subjected to his very loud and very percussive music._

Reluctantly, Brennan found she had reached her conclusion.

_As distasteful as I find public transportation, it seems that Zach would be the better option. _

Brennan rolled off the bed and took a couple of steps to phone on the adjacent cabinet, she lifted the receiver to her ear and dialed Zach's number from memory. She sighed impatiently as she listened to the sound of the phone ringing out, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Zach. This is Brennan. I need you to use the emergency key I gave you for my apartment to get me a few things. There are quite a few items, it would probably be best if you take down a list. Let me know when you have a piece of paper."

"I can assure you that I have an excellent memory, and have no need for a written list. Although, may I ask a question?"

"Yes."

"Why not just ask Angela to bring you your things? She would be a better choice as she is familiar with your apartment and the whereabouts of the items you need. Did something happen between the two of you that I am not aware of?"

"Angela is out of town at a retreat that _I_ consider to be idiotic. I need items from my apartment and you are the preferable remaining option."

"While I am flattered that I am preferable to whoever the other options were, I should tell you that Angela is not out of town."

"Are you certain?"

"I saw her this morning as I went for my run. She seemed very irate that you weren't at home."

Brennan took a deep breath and let it go with a sigh, her frantic concern over who to call and how to explain her situation to them suddenly seemed trivial.

_If there was ever an appropriate time for Angela to abruptly return from one of her trips, this is certainly it. _

Zach held his phone closer to his ear, confused as to why Brennan hadn't responded.

"Do you still need me to bring you your things?"

"What? No. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Brennan pressed the receiver button to disconnect the call and then quickly dialed Angela's cell number.

"Brennan sweetie! Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital. I need you to-"

"You're _where_?"

"At Rush Medical, I need you to-"

"Why are you in _Chicago_?"

"I went to a party. I need you to-"

"You went to a _party_?"

"_Angela_! I need you to pack my travel bag and bring it to the hospital. And I need you to give me a ride home."

"What happened?"

"I'll explain when you get here; but I can't leave without appropriate clothes. So please? Hurry."

"I'm holding you to that. See you soon."

Brennan replaced the phone receiver and sat on the bed, using the remote she flipped through the channels on the TV until she found something interesting to pass the time while she waited for Angela.

It was almost an entire episode before Angela burst through the door, "_Sweetie_." She scooped Brennan into a hug, her chunky bracelets digging uncomfortably into Brennan's back.

Brennan wriggled out of her arms and looked her in the eyes.

"Angela I'm fine, really."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the car. Can I have my clothes please?"

"What are you watching?"

"It's a show that postulates that there is a man who travels through time and space in a blue police box, having improbable adventures. Now, may I have my clothes?"

Angela spun to face her, "Oh my God, sweetie there's this really hot guy in the lounge."

"Angela! Clothes!"

She pouted, but gave Brennan the travel bag she had packed and sat on the bed.

"Bren, this guy is _fantastic_, he's tall and hunky and he has this broody thing going on and-"

Brennan rolled her eyes, she half-listened to Angela as she unpacked the bag and sorted her toiletries and clothes out onto the bed.

"He looked like he'd been here a while, his clothes were all rumpled and had that 'after sex' kind of messiness going on. He just had this air of confidence and-"

Brennan stopped listening, Angela was chronically fascinated with anyone and everyone she deemed to be 'hot', and she could go on for hours. It was difficult to keep up with her on the best of days; _and today is not the best of days. I my coping mechanisms are not capable to deal with this right now. I just need to take a shower, put on real clothes and get out of this hospital._

And she realized, to get out of the hospital she would have to go through the lobby. And in that lobby there was a man who knew who she was and what she looked like. And he could be anyone.

_Seeley Booth is still in the lobby, waiting for me._

Brennan felt a wave of inferiority and apprehension wash over her.

_Correction, he is waiting for the girl he brought here last night. I am not that girl. When he sees me, he'll expect me to be a girl who dresses and acts in a manner congruent with my behavior last night; an unintelligent, superficial girl whose only redeeming attributes are physical, and therefore transitory. _

_Why does it matter so much what he thinks of you? _The voice in her head demanded. _All you want to do is thank him. Right?_

She silenced the voice; she had been out of control of enough things so far, she was not going to continue in such a manner. The need to take control of something, anything, was overwhelming, and when or if she would meet Seeley Booth in person was, at the moment, the only thing she could completely control.

_There is no reason for us to meet face to face; if we do, I will only disappoint. I can adequately thank him over the phone; however, for that to work I need to have his phone number._

She could vaguely hear Angela still talking; Bren knew Angela would keep going until she stopped her, or until she noticed Bren wasn't listening. The two options shared an equal probability of occurring.

_I would also rather not have to listen to Angela wax poetic regarding her new 'most beautiful man'. I will be able to prepare to leave much faster without her here. _

Brennan was stuck with an idea, beautiful in its simplicity.

_I can have Angela go ask Seeley Booth for his number, and tell him that I have a ride home, and that he therefore does not need to stay. When she gets back I'll be almost ready to go, all my birds will be dead without the overuse of rocks! _

She returned her attention to Angela, who hadn't stopped talking about the guy in the lobby for much more than a breath.

"-he would be so amazing in bed, you can just tell, and-"

"Hey, Ange."

"Hm? What?"

"Could you go down to the lobby, find Seeley Booth and get his phone number for me?"

"Who is Seeley Booth? And what does he look like?" Even Brennan could hear the lusty inference in Angela's voice; she rolled her eyes.

"He's the guy who brought me in last night, and I have no idea what he looks like, I've never met him before."

"But I thought you said he brought you in?"

"Yes. I was unconscious. So I have not technically met him. But I would like to thank him for his actions."

"You are so telling me what happened right now."

"Angela. Please. I promise to tell you later."

Angela looked her over, the streaky remnants of last night's makeup, the frazzled hair, and nodded, "Well you shouldn't see him in that state anyway, unless he's the one who got you that way." Angela laughed as she headed towards the door, "Ooooh, I can get the phone number of my mystery guy at the same time."

Brennan looked up from the bed and met Angela's eyes, totally serious, "That sounds like an excellent idea. While you do that, I will prepare to leave. We can go after you return."

Angela rolled her eyes and laughed lightly, shaking her head as she walked down the hall.

Brennan collected her things and walked to the showers.

She laid out her things methodically, hanging up the towel, heating the water; everything in its place.

Comforted by the order she could create around her she stepped into the tiled shower stall.

The hot water ran in rivulets down her body, pooling slightly at her feet before swirling down the drain; taking with it the offensive feeling of the hospital, the disappointment of the night before, and the embarrassment of her current situation.

She quickly washed her hair and rinsed the soapy residue from her body.

Clean, and feeling once again like a productive, responsible member of society Brennan stepped out of the shower and dried off vigorously.

She piled her hair on top of her head and wrapped it in her towel. Looking over the clothes Angela had brought for her she sighed with relief; _Jeans, tank-top, undergarments, boots. I will never dress so far out of my comfort zone again. _

She pulled on her clothes, enjoying the feel of natural fibers against her skin, she laced her boots tightly and returned to her room to comb out her hair and wait for Angela

It was only a few minutes before she heard determined footsteps coming down the hall.

"Brennan!"

"Angela!" She responded, mocking Angela's frantic tone.

Angela pouted for a moment and the sat on the end of the bed with a bounce.

"You're never going to believe what happened."

"As it is unlikely that anything truly out of the realm of possibility happened to you, I will therefore most likely believe what you tell me."

Angela gave her a withering look and continued, "That amazing guy I told you about earlier? That's Seeley Booth."

"I don't understand the importance of that."

"Brennan! Your knight in shining armor is _HOT_. Like sex god hot. "

"Denise did say he was handsome."

"Honey. Handsome doesn't cover it."

Brennan looked at Angela as she swept her still damp hair into a ponytail and gave her reflection a once over.

"I still don't see how his physical attributes relate to his actions towards me." Brennan used a hair band to hold her ponytail in place. "Did you get his phone number?"

"Yes." Angela smirked. "You should ask him out."

"Given your description of him it is unlikely that he would be interested in me."

Angela cocked her head, her face somber and thoughtful, "How is it that you always forget how gorgeous you are?"

Brennan looked at Angela, her eyes sad and tired, "Sex gods do not, ever, go out with studious individuals."

Angela raised an eyebrow, but chose not to dig into this particular part of Brennan's past, at least not yet.

"So what _are_ you going to do with his number?"

Brennan shrugged, stuffing her things back into her overnight bag, "I told you earlier. I'm going to thank him."

She lifted her bag and started toward the door, terminating that line of conversation.

She looked at Angela expectantly, "Are you prepared to leave?"

Angela jumped off the bed and snatched the bag from Brennan's hand, draping her other arm around her shoulders, "Don't think I've forgotten, you still have to tell me how you got here."

Brennan glared at Angela, who laughed uncontrollably as she pulled Brennan towards the elevator doors, "Tell you what, how about we start with some food. I'm starved."

As they walked to the parking lot neither of them noticed the Chevy Tahoe as it pulled out of the main hospital drive and into traffic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note**: You can blame my new subscription to Netfix and the inexorable lure of Tin Man (OMFGWYATTCAIN) for the lateness of this chapter.  
>My Muse demanding that I write this and the next chapter simultaneously didn't help either. The up-side being that you can expect the next chapter on Wednesday.<p>

To those of you that have your PMs turned off - your reviews rock my socks. I would love to respond to them individually, but I can't. So in the future, if you review (and I hope you do) I'm not ignoring you, I just can't respond. And I'm glad you're enjoying this story.

This chapter is dedicated to SuperBie and AryaTindomiel, and everyone else who has recommended my story to someone, you're so sweet. Recommendations are truly high praise. Thank you, I can't stop blushing.

I hope I continue to live up to your standards! (this means you) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth pulled the keys out of the ignition and gripped them in his hand hard enough to leave indentations. He closed his eyes and dropped his head against the headrest.<p>

_Ugh. God, I smell like a hospital. _

He shuddered. He hated the smell of hospitals. A shrink once told him it was because so much of human memory is linked to smell. Given that tonight had been his best experience with a hospital, ever; it was no wonder he hated it.

_I need a shower. Or a bath. Something to get this smell off of me. _

He reached forward absently and pulled the release on the door. The mediocre coffee he had gotten a few hours ago at the donut place had worn off and he was in desperate need of a nap. He climbed out of the SUV and dragged his feet up the walk to the house, pausing only to arm the Tahoe over his shoulder.

The house seemed closer to the carport in the daylight; _or it could just be that I'm not carrying the dead weight of an unconscious party girl. _

He pushed through the screen door into the kitchen, forcing aside a large black garbage bag overflowing with party refuse.

_Alcohol. Sex. Smoke. Vomit. Home at last._

From the sounds in the adjacent rooms he could tell that a couple of the guys were already cleaning up. Booth avoided them as he went through the house to his room, not wanting to talk to anyone until he had had a nap, or a shower, or both. He trudged up the stairs, kicking red plastic cups, streamers and the occasional item of clothing out of his path. The night caught up to him a little more with each step and he realized how little actual sleep he had gotten.

_Nap or shower. Nap or shower. _

He got to his room and threw open the door, ready to collapse on the bed and shower when he woke up, only to find that his bed was covered in a tangled mess of sheets and limbs.

_Really? Right now? Fuck. I want my fucking nap. _

"Out." He bellowed, "Out of the be-"

"Booth?" Sully sat up out of the masses of red and blond hair, his own hair sticking out from his head like a rat's nest. He looked from Booth to the two girls in the bed and back, shocked.

"I didn't know when you'd be back man."

"_Sullivan_," Booth hissed, "What the hell are you doing?"

Sully pulled on his boxers while extracting himself from the bed. He hopped over to where Booth stood, as he avoided the junk that littered the floor. When he finally reached the door he lounged against the jamb and grinned like an idiot, "What does it look like man?"

"Why. Here." Booth forced out from between his clenched teeth.

"Your door was open. And man they're _hot_. I didn't want to waste time taking them home, if you know what I mean." Sully leaned towards Booth conspiratorially and wiggled his eyebrows.

Booth jabbed one tense finger into Sully's chest, "You're doing the laundry. You have an hour before I'm coming back to my room. Them?" he pointed at the girls in his bed, "They're gone. I don't want to find their panties later either. I mean all the way gone."

Sully smirked at him, "Man, you're no fun. Alright, fine. They're gone. But I'm not doing your sheets, that's not fair."

Booth looked at him, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt, "_You_ used _my_ bed for sex. I am not washing _your_ jizz off _my_ sheets. That's disgusting. You do it. With bleach."

Booth began walking down the hall to the bathroom when Sully coughed an 'I know something you should know' cough.

"What?" Booth asked, turning slightly to glare at Sully.

"Um, I'm not the only one who _contributed_ to your sheets last night if you know what I mean."

Booth's right hand involuntarily swung up to his face, covering his eyes as though maybe, somehow, he could pretend it was all a bad dream.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" he groaned into his palm.

"Lots." Sully said as he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back.

Booth lowered his hand from his face and looked Sully in the eye, "Burn the goddamn sheets then. Take them to the furnace and shove them in. I don't care."

He turned from the hall and headed back down the stairs.

"Dude, where're you going?"

"I'm going to go downstairs to beat the shit out of the bag so I don't beat the shit out of you."

"Thanks man." Sully called down the stairs after him.

He turned back to the bed to see that the girls, he couldn't remember their names, were awake and staring wide eyed at where Booth had been. Sully glanced at the clock on the wall.

_An hour huh? _He smirked and closed the door behind him and ran back to the bed. _There's a lot I can do in an hour. _

Booth took the stairs down two at a time, no longer concerned with being quiet; he was more concerned with not clocking his friend in the jaw.

His path lead him down the stairs, through the kitchen and adjoined laundry room to a door that looked like it opened onto a closet. He pulled it open and started down the stairs. The damp, cool air enveloped him as he descended into the dark basement.

Booth jerked the chain on the over head light, the bare incandescent bulb swung back and forth on the cord, throwing and twisting shadows all over the room. On the cross beam in the center hung a 100 pound heavy bag. It was old and worn; he and the guys had picked it up used when they decided to put convert the basement to a workout room.

He stripped off his shirt, shoes and socks, placing them on the bench under the stairs; leaving on only his jeans. His toes curled against the cold cement of the floor as he walked to the corner of the room and pushed the play button on the beat up CD player/stereo sitting on an upended milk crate. The room filled with the thudding rhythmic beats of Daft Punk.

It wasn't his usual taste in workout music, but he wasn't here to work out, so much as just hit something.

He pulled a jump rope off one of the equipment hooks on the wall for his warm up and began to jump. With every jump he woke up a little more.

Snippets of the hours that brought him here flashed through his mind like a badly edited home movie. The frantic drive to the hospital, the thankless hours in the waiting room; the cold dismissal by a too-damn-sexy-for-her-own-good roommate; and the theft of his bed's purity and innocence by persons unknown all added up to one thing. A very tired and irate Seeley Booth.

He coiled the rope and put it back on its hook, then walked to the bag as he stretched his arms and shoulders and loosened his back.

_Fucking Sully. It's not enough that I have to rescue some blacked out drunk chick from him, no, he has to use my bed and my room as his personal love nest._

His fist collided with the bag, he could feel the thick calluses of his unbound knuckles grate against the raw canvas.

"_I'm not the only one who contributed to your sheets last night." _Sully's voice taunted him in his own mind.

Booth released a barrage of rapid hooks with his right fist, punctuated by the occasional jab with his left, feeling better which each strike.

_Asshat. _

Slam.

_Fucking._

Slam.

_Twat._

Slam.

_Should._

Slam.

_Kick._

Slam.

_His._

Slam.

_Ass._

Booth let the bag bounce and swing out in a wide arch before letting loose with a left hook, sending the bag spinning away from his fist. He could feel the pain shooting up his left arm as the calluses finally tore with the force of contact.

He stopped, leaning forward slightly and putting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His lungs burned and his arms ached, he'd pushed too hard too fast. But it felt good.

Really, really good.

He heard footfalls on the stairs and looked up to see Walt bent over the old pipe the owners had bolted in as a railing. Booth walked to the corner and pushed the stop button on the CD player.

"Hey man, I'm heading out. Some chick left her stuff here, she's going to come by and pick it up in about ten, maybe twenty minutes."

"Why can't the other guys do it?"

"They're either passed out still, or at the store for a beer run."

"Fuck. Okay, fine, whatever." Booth began to turn back to continue his work out as Walt headed up the stairs when he had another thought.

"Hey, what did you find out about the girl from last night?"

Walt turned back and leaned on the iron pipe.

"Well, I talked to Wendall, he was on bar last night; he never saw her get drinks. And you know how he is, he remembers every girl . . . by name." He snorted gently and shook his head, "That kid has wicked skills."

"Huh. Any chance you found out who she was here with?"

"Yeah, some rich prick in a dinner jacket. According to Wendall the guy got a couple drinks, didn't donate to the bar though. Cheap bastard. He went home alone."

"Before or after I took the girl to the hospital?"

"After. Why?"

"Because I had to take his date to the hospital that's why. Bastard couldn't even take care of her himself. I had to do it for him."

Walt grunted in response, nodding his head.

"How did things go at the hospital?"

Booth shrugged, "She's fine."

_Fine and dandy, at home with her hot roommate, debating whether or not to call me. _Me_. The guy who totally saved her ass. I hate party chicks. Self-involved ungrateful bitches. All of them. _

"Good."

"Huh?" Booth was shaken out of his thoughts, "Oh. Yeah."

Walt checked his watch, "Hey, I gotta go. See you later."

Booth nodded and sent a belated, "Yep." up the stairs after him.

Already lost in his thoughts he turned the CD player back on and turned faced the bag, resuming his stance.

_Is it so wrong to want to be the hero?_

Slam.

_Just some of the time, not all the time._

Slam

_I'll settle for a 'thank you' over the phone. _

Slam.

_That's not too much to ask is it?_

Slam.

_And that date of hers._

Slam.

_He's a piece of work. _

Slam.

_What kind of a sick fuck do you have to be to get your date drunk and then not even look for her when she goes missing? _

Slam.

_-What are you bitching about?-_

Booth heard his inner self talking with Sully's voice; he groaned and hit the bag with four fast strikes, two from each hand. Having to listen to his inner voice was bad enough. Having to listen to it sound like Sully was close to torture.

_Shut up._

Slam.

_-You're just bent 'cause you didn't get to gaze into her eyes while she thanked you and called you her hero. That's straight out of a bad romance novel. What are you, a chick?-_

Slam.

_-It's not like it matters anyway. You saw her, that dress, those shoes, she's a party skank, and you're done with those. You don't need that drama. Remember?-_

Slam.

_You know what I need? I need to get laid, that's what I need. _

Slam.

_-Then aren't you better off _with_ a party skank?-_

Slam.

_No. I feel like I should be wearing a HazMat suit and showering in bleach afterwards. _

Slam.

_-In that case, you're better off calling Cam.-_

Slam.

_I don't want to date Cam._

Slam.

_-Who the hell said anything about dating? I thought you just needed to get laid.-_

Booth stopped, putting out a hand to catch the swinging bag. His breath was hard and fast, and not only from the workout, he had just admitted to himself that he wanted a _relationship_. He hadn't had one of those since Rebecca. And after her he had decided never to have one again, not after what had happened.

The memories of his past with her surged up, and Booth laid into the bag, letting the anger and pain of the past rush down his arms and into his fists. His knuckles continued to shred and tear against the canvas. Somewhere in his mind he knew he should have wrapped his hands, but the sharp pain of torn skin reminded him that this was his present.

_Rebecca is the past. _

Slam.

_It's all past. _

Slam.

_And you can't change the past. _

Slam.

_So you accept it._

Slam.

_You move on._

Booth felt his fist connect with the bag as the door bell rang through the house.

_Who the hell?_

With the spell of his memories broken he realized he had forgotten about Walt's favor.

_It's that chick about her stuff. Dammit. Now I smell like hospital and ass. Nice._

He looked down at his hands.

_And I'm bleeding. Fan-fucking-tastic._

He grabbed a towel off the bench and patted as much of the blood as he could off his hands as he ran up the stairs.

_You know what? I don't care what I look like to them. I said I was done with party bitches and I am. _

He threw the towel onto a pile of abandoned clothes at the top of the stairs.

_I'm done. _

Booth charged through the first floor, wanting to get the whole ordeal over with as fast as possible. He tried to venture a guess at who was on his porch. He had a vague idea of who had been at the house the night before; he had to avoid them after all. Tessa had been here, so had Maryanne and Julie, and he thought he had seen Karen.

This wouldn't be the first time that one of them left something at the house so they could come back and 'get it'; using whatever they had 'left' as an excuse to have morning after sex as long as he was alone. And heaven help him it had worked every time.

But not this time.

This time he was just going to hand her the purse and say goodbye, as though the purse really was the only reason she was here. Then he'd be free to hit the shower, maybe rub one out for good measure.

_And call Cam, I should call Cam. And not just for a quickie, I need to get out of here for a while. We can hit the bar, watch the game, something. Anything._

He slowed as he approached the door, flexing his hands and steeling himself for whatever lame excuse was waiting for him on the other side.

_I'm done with all of this; it's time to move on._

Angry, sweaty and half naked he yanked the door open.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I know, I know, it's not Wednesday. I'm a lying liar who lies. My muse told me to tell you that it's Wednesday on Mars. I told him that that wouldn't fly, but Muse insisted, there you have it.  
>I was all set and ready to post and I read through it and there was no flow. It was awful. I had to completely re-arrange the whole chapter to get it to work.<p>

I hope you enjoy it. The next two are being written together as well, I'm hoping to have them done soon so there's no rioting.

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan returned the coffee cup to its saucer and popped the last bite of English muffin and jam into her mouth. Angela stared at her as she chewed, the food on her own plate nearly untouched and her coffee cold, waiting for Brennan to continue.<p>

"And then I called you." She dusted her hands of crumbs and took another sip of coffee, "Well, actually, I called Zach first and then I called you. And then you came to the hospital and-"

"Yes, I was there for that part." Angela took a sip of her coffee and winced. Raising a hand she flagged down a waitress to ask for a fresh cup of coffee.

The waitress left and Angela turned her full attention to Brennan, her mouth set in a firm line, "What the fuck Bren."

Brennan furrowed her brow, confused, "Is that a question?"

"No! It's a statement. How the hell could that happen?"

"I imagine it happened because someone put something in my drink."

The waitress returned with a fresh cup of coffee for Angela and a refill for Brennan. Brennan doctored her drink as Angela spoke.

"No. It didn't. It happened because you didn't have a friend there to watch your back."

"I had Michael!"

"No you didn't, if you did it would have been Michael in the hospital waiting room, not Seeley Booth. Besides, how do you know Michael's not the one who slipped something in your drink to begin with?"

"What possible reason could he have?"

"So he could rape you?

"That's ridiculous. I made it very clear that I was willing to have intercourse with him with my manner of dress and my behavior over the course of the evening. At least, what I can remember of it."

"See? You can't even remember. You don't _know_. Besides, guys who drug girls do it to willing girls and unwilling girls just the same. It's not about sex, it's about control. And Michael is a control freak."

Angela picked up a piece of whole wheat toast and ate it with small vicious bites.

Brennan involuntarily thought of the times when Michael had gotten surprisingly upset over conclusions drawn in her coursework; particularly when her work took an opposing point from his and succeeded where his work had failed. He was also quick to manage her access to artifacts and mock dig sites, something she had always attributed to his desire to help her. However with Angela's suggestion that Michael was attempting to exert control over her, she began to feel that maybe she had been mistaken.

She shook off the feeling; _I hate psychology._

"Now you sound like Sweets."

Angela poked at Brennan with her toast.

"Yeah? Well, he'd be right too."

"So what were you doing back from your retreat so soon?"

"Way to change the subject Bren."

"I find that I am genuinely curious regarding your early departure from an event that you looked forward to with great enthusiasm. Although, I am also very thankful that you chose to return when you did, you saved me the humiliation of calling Zach. Or Sweets."

"You were going to call Sweets?" Angela's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Brennan grimaced and nodded, "If Zach didn't pick up when I called. At least I can trust him to keep my situation to himself." She picked up her coffee cup and looked pointedly at Angela over the brim, "And you failed to answer my question."

Angela smirked as she answered, "I left because I like to take bathe. In hot water. Regularly. The whole communing with nature thing is a whole lot more interesting with running water."

Brennan swallowed her coffee, nodding, "While I find your logic flawed, I can see how your preference for bathing would make your experience unenjoyable."

Angela snorted, "That's an understatement. But seeing as you just got out of the hospital I'll let it slide."

"I don't see how-"

"_Speaking_ of hospitals," Angela interrupted with a wicked lilt in her voice, "Tell me again how you got there last night?"

Brennan sighed, "I only know what I was told, which if you recall I relayed to you earlier; that I was brought to the hospital by Seeley Booth." Brennan crossed her arms over her chest, "I don't see why I have to repeat myself."

"But you don't know how _he_ found you?"

"Well . . ." Brennan paused and relaxed her arms.

"Well?"

"I heard a rumor. But I don't like to give credence to rumors; as there is no proof that what was said was based in fact."

"Spill; what's the rumor?"

"That I was found, unconscious, under some bushes on the side of the house where the party took place."

"Oooh honey, that's some knight in shining armor you have there."

"The nurse called him that too, I don't understand why."

"Because he's your hero Bren, that's why."

"He's _not_ my hero."

"So let me get this straight; a gorgeous hunky guy finds you passed out under some bushes, takes you to the hospital, saves your life and you don't think he's your hero?"

"His actions may have been heroic, but that does not make him _my_ hero."

"I think it does."

_I doubt he will have any desire to be thought of as my hero should he meet me and I can't blame him. I am not the sort of woman who has a 'knight in shining armor'._

Angela cleared her throat, and looked at Brennan, "Look, Bren. I know you think really highly of Michael, I don't think you should go out with him again. Ever."

Brennan shifted in her seat, "I don't think last night is an appropriate gauge of our potential compatibility."

_Besides, it's not as though there are other options and-_

"Brennan! He _left_ the party _without_ you. It's by the grace of God you're alive."

She looked at Angela.

"I don't believe in the concept of a god."

"Fine, the grace of Seeley Booth. The universe. Science. Charles Fucking Darwin. Whatever you believe in, I don't care. You could be dead right now for all he knows."

"I can accept that Michael's actions, what we know of them, suggest irresponsibility for his part. But I will not treat him as though he's done something terrible when I don't know his side of the story."

"His side of the story? Bren, his side of the story is that he _left_ you. It's not as though he called the apartment to check up on you."

"It is much more likely that he would call my cellular."

"And has he?" Angela raised an eyebrow and leaned on the table.

"I don't know. I don't have it."

"Where is it?"

"It was in my purse, which did not make it to the hospital with me."

"Have you tried calling it?"

Brennan shook her head, "No. I saw no reason to; it would not have aided me in getting released from the hospital."

"So as far as we know, Michael left you, compromised, at a party, and hasn't even called to check up on you. That's a real winner you've got there."

"From your tone I think I should assume that last comment was sarcasm."

"You would assume correct."

Brennan shifted again, "I am not comfortable making a decision about the character of another person until I have had the chance to talk to them face to face and hear their side of the story." Angela snorted, but Brennan continued, "As a scientist is it my duty to remain objective. And objectivity is without bias. And that means hearing all sides."

"Fine. You remain objective, I won't even hassle you about it. On one condition."

Brennan looked uncomfortably at Angela; _ugh. A 'condition'. I hate Angela's 'conditions'. _

"And your condition is; that you have to thank Seeley Booth."

"Angela I told you, I plan on calling-"

"Nope. No. Not calling, meeting, thanking. Face to face."

"I don't see how-"

"Didn't you _just_ say you wouldn't 'make a decision about the character of another person until I have had the chance to talk to them face to face and hear their side of the story.'?"

Angela raised both hands into the air as she spoke, making exaggerated pulling motions with the second and third fingers.

"What are you doing with your fingers?"

"They're called 'air quotes'." She said as she did them again.

"They're unnecessary and silly."

"But they get the point across. And that point, in case you've forgotten, is that you one Temperance Brennan will be meeting one Seeley Booth to thank him for his actions if I have to drag you to him myself."

"Fine. Are you prepared to leave? I have a number of things to do today, and it is already much later than I would like."

Angela nodded and drank the last of her coffee.

"Oh! We should get your cell phone and purse while we're here."

Brennan sighed, "Can't we return for them later?"

Angela smirked and quirked her eyebrow, "How does that make any _logical_ sense? We're already here, it'll take five minutes."

_She is the one driving after all._

"Ok, fine. You call and get directions. I'll be right back."

Angela pulled her cell out of her own pocket and hit Brennan's speed dial number. Brennan left the table for the restroom in the back of the diner, deep in thought.

_It will be more cost effective given the cost of gas to pick up the phone here in Chicago, than to drive home now and return later. That is, if someone didn't steal the phone. And my purse. _

_Honestly Brennan, how dumb could you be?_

_Well,_ i_t'll never happen again. And worst case scenario I have insurance on the phone, everything else important was inside my dress. _

She washed her hands and looked in the mirror.

_I look awful. I just need to go home and go to sleep, it might be worth it just to come back later for the phone, that is if someone even picked up when Angela called. _

Angela hung up the phone as Brennan rejoined her at the table.

"Someone picked up, I take it?"

Angela nodded as she looked over the directions she had written on a napkin, "Yeah, the house isn't far from here, so we can go pick up the phone on the way to the freeway."

Brennan flagged down a waitress and asked for the check. She looked at Angela from across the table as she finished her coffee.

_I must come up with a way to distract Angela, hopefully she will then forget about her ridiculous caveat of meeting Seeley Booth in person. Perhaps if I forgo a second date with Michael she won't press the issue. I'm sure there is someone else I can find . . . _

They left the diner arm in arm, walking down the sidewalk to where Angela had parked.

Angela handed Brennan a napkin with carefully written directions on it, "You're navigating." She said as she climbed into her 1958 VW bus.

Brennan looked at the map, "Angela, navigating is totally unnecessary, this house is less than three blocks, we could walk there. And why are we in the bus?"

"We could, but we're not going to. And we're in the bus because I have to pick up some canvases today on the way home. There's a great little art shop a few miles away from here and I figured if I'm making the trip to get you I might as well get the canvases while I'm at it."

Brennan rotated the napkin to match their current bearings and watched Angela talk the bus into starting.

"We want to go down that street for a block and a half."

Angela forced the bus into gear and started down the street. The drive was short, but surprisingly lovely, street after street was lined with mature Maple trees and established gardens. Five minutes after leaving the diner, they made their final turn. Brennan read Angela the house number as the car slowed a little more with each house until they saw the one they were looking for.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of an old three story house, Angela turned to Brennan, "Shall we?"

She reached to pull the door release when her phone rang, "Hello?"

Brennan watched as Angela got more and more absorbed in the phone call, she held up her hand and mouthed 'sorry' to Brennan.

_At this point it will be faster for me to simply retrieve my cellular alone than wait for her to finish her phone call. _

Exasperated, Brennan got out of the bus and started up the walk towards the house. She remembered the walkway and the door, but the rest of the house was much different than what she could recall from the night before.

_That's not surprising; given how little I remember of last night, much of it is bound to be unreliable. _

She stood in front of the door; to her right was a little button. A button that would demand that she interact with someone she didn't know; or worse, someone she had already met while under the influence of alcohol and drugs the night before.

_Maybe they won't remember me. Maybe they were too drunk as well. It is entirely plausible that they will have no recollection of who I am. And I can get my purse and phone and leave, never to return. _

With one slender finger she pushed the round button for the doorbell.

And she waited.


	9. Chapter 9

Yes, yes, I am a mean and evil author that I forced you all to wait for far too long.  
>But with the 6 major revisions and 8 minor revisions that this chapter alone underwent, trust me when I say, you didn't want it before now.<br>The next chapter is being written right now, but I may wake up in the morning and need to rewrite it from scratch. . . . so no promise on when you get it.  
>Just know that you will get it.<br>I'll try to keep the wait to days or a week or so, not months.

Disclaimer: I know it's been a while, but at no point during that period was I lucky enough to come into ownership of Bones.

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth stood fixed in place, holding the edge of the open door with his left hand as his right swung up in an unconscious attempt to coax his hair into some kind of order.<p>

The anger that had been surging through him not moments before was gone, forgotten.

Her hair was pulled back from her face except for a few stray hairs that had escaped to loosely frame her delicate features.

_Wow._

She stepped back slightly, startled from the door opening so suddenly, and with such force.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "I was expecting someone else."

_Understatement of the century there Seel._

Her eyes flicked over his sweaty hair, bare chest and bare feet, "Clearly."

"Can I help you with something?" Booth smiled his most charming smile, a move that always worked on women, especially in his present state of undress.

She didn't smile back; if anything she looked even more upset.

_Always until now, apparently._

She released an aggravated sigh, "I am here to retrieve my belongings."

"Oh, um, yeah. Hold on."

Booth turned away, letting the door swing half closed behind him, lost in thought.

_How did I not notice her at the party last night? _

_-You were avoiding the party altogether. In fact; I'm impressed you even knew there _was_ a party._

_She must have come by after I left, I would have remembered someone like her._

He scanned the entryway looking for where Walt had put her stuff; there on the usual "lost things" table was a solitary purse.

Booth returned to the door, asking as he opened it, "Is this your-"

The question died in his throat.

The unmistakable figure of Angela Montenegro was there, standing shoulder to shoulder with the beautiful stranger on his doorstep, a phone in her hand.

Her mouth popped into a small 'O' before coiling into a wicked smirk.

"Zach honey?" She said into the phone without taking her eyes off of him, "She's going to have to call you back."

Angela snapped the phone shut as the girl turned to look at her, confused.

"Why did you hang up on Zach?" She asked. Angela responded but Booth didn't hear her answer, he wasn't paying attention.

_What is Angela doing here? She was at the hospital picking up Temp- . . . _

Then it hit him; and Booth couldn't keep from staring at the girl standing next to Angela.

_How did I not see it the second I opened the door?_

This was the girl that he had, no more than twelve hours ago, been rushing to the hospital.

Booth's sniper training unconsciously kicked in, quickly gauging this Temperance Brennan against the party girl from the night before.

Her hair was a no nonsense brown pulled back to a simple ponytail.

_But last night it was down. Last night it was everywhere. _

And his skin tingled where he could still feel it, silky and soft; still see it fanned on his pillow.

Her build was long and elegant, like a dancer; and she was shorter than him only by a few inches.

_But last night she seemed so small, so helpless._

And his arms and chest ached where she had rested against him while he carried her.

She wore a tank top, jeans and a pair of well-worn hiking boots.

_But last night she wore that sparkly excuse for a dress and those damn shoes._

And he remembered the dress, the way it showed off more than it concealed.

And he remembered the shoes, the way they made her impossibly long legs even longer.

She held herself with such strength and grace.

_But last night she was limp. _

_Last night she was unconscious. _

_Last night she was alone. _

And suddenly he was angry again.

Angry at the piece of shit who left her at his house.

Angry that he didn't know who that piece of shit was.

Angry that he couldn't beat that piece of shit within an inch of his worthless life.

Booth got hold of himself as Temperance Brennan turned back to look at him; pushing his anger down and away, putting it in a safe place for later.

He held the purse out to her with one hand, dazed,

"Hi, I'm-"

"-Seeley Booth." Angela finished for him, dragging the syllables out seductively.

Booth watched as Temperance Brennan's eyebrows shot up, the expression on her face told him everything he needed to know; whoever she had been expecting, he was certainly not it. The muscle in her jaw flexed and her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned and shot Angela a dark look.

"Just Booth is fine." He added helpfully.

Temperance Brennan snapped her head back at Booth and snatched her purse from him. His hand remained as an offering.

"It's nice to finally meet you." He said with a friendly smile.

She reached out and took his hand, her grip firm and strong; not the limp-wristed excuse for a handshake he was used to getting from women.

"Likewise."

She dropped his hand and shifted her feet uncomfortably.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wincing as the raw skin of his knuckles grated against the denim.

_What the fuck do I say to her? _

Sully's voice pitched in helpfully, _"Hi. I'm the guy that rescued you from my idiot best friend and took you to the hospital last night."_

_Not helping asshole._

_-What about "Hi. How are you?"_

_She just got out of the goddamn hospital, how the fuck do you think she is!"_

His ears pricked up at the sound of familiar footfalls on the wood floor behind him; _Charlie. _

"Hey man" Charlie punched him in the shoulder before noticing the girls on the front step, "Who's this?" he asked with a smile of his own.

Booth coughed to clear his throat, "This is, uh-"

Angela batted her eyelashes prettily at Charlie, "I'm Angela and this is Brennan" she said gesturing to herself and then to Brennan with one hand.

_-Brennan? There you go; you can talk to her about why she uses her last name._

_Probably for the same goddamn reason I use mine, jackass._

"Awesome. I'm Charlie, Booth here is a complete ass for manners," Booth glared at Charlie as he continued, "Come on in; can I offer you ladies anything to drink?"

Booth could see Brennan tense up, "We were just-" she began,

"-Yes, thank you." Angela interrupted.

Charlie smiled welcomingly and turned back into the house. Angela followed him, gripping Brennan's arm so hard Booth could see her knuckles turn white as she dragged Brennan behind her.

Booth stepped back and pulled the door with him to make room for them to pass, but it wasn't quite fast enough and Brennan collided with him as she tried to keep up with Angela.

For a brief second she was nearly flush against him.

And in that second he was totally and utterly captivated.

Her hand braced on the exposed skin of his chest and his heart pounding beneath it.

Her startled eyes met his and he lost himself in their autumn grey.

Her breath ghosted across his cheek as she gasped with the sudden contact and he was suddenly painfully aware of just how close her lips were to his.

Inches.

Less than that.

She jumped back, pulling her hand with her, "Excuse me."

The place where her hand had rested was suddenly cold and empty.

Booth shrugged, "It's ok, I just didn't move fast enough. No worries."

He smiled and gestured for her to continue into the house as he turned to close the door; listening to her footfalls receding behind him.

_-Well that was new._

_Yeah._

Booth took a deep breath and let it go.

_She's just a girl._

-_Who are you kidding? She just had you in the palm of her hand. Literally._

_Shut up._

Booth half-jogged to catch up to Charlie, passing Angela and Brennan having a hushed conversation; something about the acceptance of beverages, particularly hot, being a social convention that must be observed.

"That's her." He whispered to Charlie.

"That's who?"

"The girl I took Rush last night? That's her; Brennan."

Charlie snorted in disbelief. "Shut up, be serious."

"I am serious, that's her."

"No fucking way." Charlie peeked over his shoulder to look at the girls, looking first at Brennan then Angela, "Man, are you sure?"

"Oh yeah."

Charlie shrugged, "If you say so." He sniffed twice and looked pointedly at Booth, the corners of his mouth turned down as he leaned away, "You reek dude."

Booth cringed, "Can you keep them company while I jump in the shower?"

Charlie looked pained, "I don't know. I've already done so much today; taking out most of the garbage, piling up the clothes, I even washed dishes."

"I'm sorry ok? I'll make it up to you."

Charlie inhaled though set teeth, "I kind of had the rest of the day blocked out to for Gears of-"

"-Shut up and make them something hot to drink. Like coffee. Make them coffee."

Charlie looked at him, one eyebrow raised, as Booth sighed, "Please?"

Charlie raised his hands in surrender, "I'm not even going to ask. Just don't take forever."

* * *

><p>Side note: If you wish, I recommend reading the middle part of this chapter, specifically the part when Brennan collides with Booth, to "Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg.<p>

I really wanted to get this out to all of you, so if you notice continuity errors or anything like that PLEASE let me know so I can fix them.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I know. I'm sorry. I had some serious Real Live stuff that needed handling. And no, this didn't take forever because I suddenly became owner of the show. Sorry if I got your hopes up.

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan strode purposefully down the short hall.<p>

She clenched her left hand into a tight fist, forcing the blood out of the capillaries, turning her phalanges and metacarpals white. She held it for a moment, feeling the tension build all the way to where her extensor tendons met her lateral epicondyle. Then she relaxed it, feeling the throb of the veins and capillaries as they pulsed with the release in pressure and the sudden influx of fresh blood.

It wasn't enough.

She could still feel the tingle in the nerve clusters of her palm where her hand had landed on Booth's pectoralis major.

She clenched her hand again, harder this time.

_Booth's pectoralis major._

Her eyes slid closed in a long blink, remembered voices and flashes of images perfectly recalled slipped through her mind, unbidden.

_-Honey. Handsome doesn't cover it._

Dilated pupils and golden brown irises.

_-Knight in shining armor_

Lips parted with a gasp.

_-Guardian angel_

Broad, well-formed pectorals and deltoids rising and falling with each heavy breath.

_-__Sex god hot._

Pronounced inguinal ligaments disappearing into the hem of his jeans.

_-__He would be so amazing in bed, you can just tell_.

Brennan's eyes snapped open as she tried to push the thoughts of Booth's physical appearance from her mind.

_He is expecting me to be the girl who was here last night._

Ahead of her she could see Angela waiting for her, familiar smirk already in place.

_I am not that girl._

Brennan exited the hall wanting to get out of the dark closeness of the entryway and into the light of the room beyond.

_I will only disappoint._

Angela's hand wrapped around her arm and tugged her aside, shaking her from her thoughts.

"What was that?" Angela asked in a low voice she usually reserved for talking about attractive men while in their presence.

"What was what?" Brennan asked in return. Her hand relaxed at her side and she fought the urge to scratch the feeling of his skin from her palm.

"You know exactly what." Angela said with a stern look.

_I am not that girl._

Brennan could hear Booth approaching behind her, she moved closer to Angela.

_I will only disappoint._

"I see no reason for us to stay now that I have retrieved my belongings." Brennan said, changing the subject.

"No. That would be rude." Angela replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How would leaving be considered rude?"

"Because it's a . . . social convention." Angela said, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

Brennan glanced at the room around them but could not discern what Angela was referring to.

"What about this is a-" she began, only to be interrupted by Angela.

"The acceptance of beverages, particularly hot, is a social convention that must be observed." Angela amended, a note in finality in her voice.

Brennan heard Booth pass close behind her; she clenched her jaw and swallowed thickly as her hand began tingling again.

_Today is fast becoming completely unacceptable._

"How long does this social convention require us to stay?" Brennan muttered to herself as she cast a glance over her shoulder to where Booth was having a hushed conversation with his friend who he had introduced as 'Charlie'. She couldn't see Booth's face, but Charlie looked shocked by whatever Booth was saying.

_He is more than likely upset that Charlie invited us in, contracting us to this social covenant of hot beverages. I am certain he had better things to do today than entertain us._

Charlie looked past Booth to where Brennan was standing with Angela. Brennan quickly looked away to where Angela was looking at her with a mixture of expectation and wry humor.

_The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave._

"While I do not understand why this convention is so important, I bow to your superior knowledge and will observe said conventions as you direct." Brennan said calmly.

Angela grinned widely, "Good I-"

Booth made a sudden dash for the stairs, the unexpected burst of movement stopped Angela mid sentence. He ran up them two at a time, the length and musculature of his legs giving him an easy gait. Brennan was torn between being in total awe of his physique and abject humiliation of his departure.

_Am I so far from what he saw last night that he felt the need to leave? He will probably have his friend break the agreement of hot beverages, it was after all not Booth's fault we were invited in; perhaps . . ._

"He'll be right back," Brennan was torn from her thoughts by Charlie's statement.

He must have associated her surprise with Booth's sudden departure because he did not remark on it; instead he gave her an easy smile as he opened a hand to the rest of the house, "Follow me."

She felt Angela take her arm, lightly this time, and they followed Charlie through a set of double doors to a large room.

On the far wall someone had mounted a large flat screen television at optimal height for viewing when seated. Beneath it there was a simple structure of wood and cinderblock that resembled shelves. Placed upon them were a wide variety of electronics that Brennan did not recognize. The rest of the room was dominated by four large worn couches set around the television in a U with another board and cinderblock construction serving as a coffee table in the center. Two of the couches sat at the wall opposite the television, mounted like bleachers atop wooden pallets that had been bolted together. Set perpendicular to the television were two more couches, it was to these that Charlie gestured when he politely asked the girls to sit.

"This room is much cleaner than I would have expected given the activities of last night." Brennan said, surprised.

"What? Oh, yeah, we don't let people in here when there's a house party. Things tend to get stolen when we go that."

"I see. What is the purpose of this room then?" She heard Angela sigh, but she ignored her.

"This is our game room slash home theater." Charlie said with pride.

"Is that why you have structured the couches in such a precarious manner?"

Charlie chuckled lightly.

"Yeah. It works really well. And we've only had them collapse a couple times." Charlie returned, smiling at the remembered event.

Brennan remained silent, not sure if she should take him seriously or not. Charlie ignored her silence and continued, "I'm going to get the coffee started, I'll be right back."

He began to leave before turning back, thoughtful, "You guys ok with leaded coffee?"

Brennan's brow furrowed as she looked over to Angela, "Why would I want lead in my coffee?"

"He means caffeinated sweetie."

"Oh," she said, turning to look at Charlie, "in that case, yes, I would like mine _leaded_." she finished, putting severe emphasis on the final word.

Charlie's brow furrowed and he stared at her for a long moment before smiling wryly and shaking his head as he walked to the kitchen.

Angela leaned over to her, "Get a load of this house!"

Brennan looked around, the house itself was massive. The floors were worn natural wood, and from what she could see of the rooms they were filled with an eclectic mix of furnishings that bordered on the ridiculous.

"Angela," Brennan whispered, "why is there a lamp in the shape of a woman's leg over there?"

Angela sighed deliberately; "Bren, tell me you've seen 'A Christmas Story'."

"Would you like me to tell you that, or would you like me to tell you the truth? Because past occurrences have shown that when you tell me to tell you something, it is not always what you actually want."

Angela gave her a disparaging look that Brennan had become quite familiar with. "I'm very close to giving up sweetie."

"I really wish you would Ange." Brennan replied with a smirk of her own.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Angela looking around the room as though there were clues to the night before waiting to be found.

Brennan stared at the floor, having looked around the rooms and found nothing.

"So you don't remember any of this?" Angela whispered, trying to jog anything in Brennan's subconscious.

"No. None of it. It's like . . . it's like I was never here."

Brennan shook her head, she knew Angela was trying to help, but with every inability to recognize anything about the house Brennan got a little more depressed.

Desperate for something she could deal with, Brennan changed the subject, "Zach called?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry. He's having issues with his new roommate."

"I thought they couldn't find anyone to place with him this quarter?"

"Apparently there was a last minute admission, and they put him with Zach." Brennan cringed, Zach was not known for his adaptability.

Charlie shuffled back into the room, precariously balancing coffee mugs, a sugar bowl, and a carton of heavy cream. After carefully setting the items down he returned to his seat across the table from Angela and Brennan.

"So, I don't think I've ever seen either of you at one of our parties before. Or on campus for that matter. Is this your first semester?"

Brennan took a deep breath, unsure how to begin when Angela jumped into the conversation, taking the lead.

"We go to North Western. I'm in the Art program there and Brennan here is in, um, Medicine."

"Huh. Cool. So, what kind of Art are you working on now?"

"I mostly focus on two dimensional mediums . . ."

Brennan let Ange's voice drift into the back of her consciousness as she began going through her phone.

There were seven missed calls, three from Angela and another five from Zach.

_None from Michael. _

Brennan ignored her inner voice and checked her text messages.

There were ten in all. Five from Zach, two from Angela and three from Michael.

She began with Zach's messages:

-I have been assigned a roommate without notice. I am not comfortable with this.

-He is moving my things.

-To make room for jars of bugs, and dirt.

-Correction, he insists they are not dirt and in fact they are different combinations of peat, gravel, loam, humus, decaying plant matter and sand. I think I hate him.

_Apologies for the tardiness of my response, _Brennan texted back, _have you discussed matters with the new RA?_

Brennan moved on, ignoring Angela's messages, if they were regarding anything of great importance Angela could inform her on the return trip. With a nervous finger Brennan tapped Michael's name and his messages appeared.

-What room are you in?

-Where did you go?

-Fine then. I'll see you in lab.

Brennan read them five or six times, but they never changed.

_Perhaps Angela can decipher them. But I do not think now is the appropriate time to ask. _

Brennan turned her phone off and set it on the table returning her attention to Angela and Charlie's meandering conversation.

" . . . but I have a project right now that I'm working on where I incorporate aspects of other mediums into my work."

"So like a mixed media kind of thing."

"Yes. Exactly"

Angela and Charlie paused, and Brennan heard a creak in the floorboards at the door. Turning she could see Booth leaning on the door frame.

His hair was damp, the follicles appearing darker because of the water clinging to them. His t-shirt was nearly too small for him and she could clearly see the dark outline of the major muscle groups of his chest through the thin material. He ran his left hand though his hair absently as he stood away from the door and walked into the room. His left bicep flexed with the movement and Brennan found herself wondering absently about the tensile strength of the fabric.

"Can we try this again?" Booth asked as he walked towards her, he stretching out one long arm and offering her his right hand "Hi. I'm Seeley Booth."

Brennan looked at him for a moment before taking his hand, letting the tingle of nerves reacting to the warmth of his skin rush up her arm and down her spine, "And I am Temperance Brennan."

* * *

><p>Please let me know if you're still out there and still reading. Leave a review so I know to keep plugging away. Because I already know what happens. I know where this goes and how it ends. So let me know if you want to know too.<br>Music Note: This chapter was written while listening to Imogen Heap's _Black Canvas_, over, and over, and over, and over, and . . . well you get the idea.


	11. Chapter 11

You all sure know how to make a writer feel special. Wowza. I'm super happy that you're all still out there. It really makes me want to share, knowing you want to read.  
>If you want to know who to thank for the (comparatively) freakishly short wait for this chapter, then thank the reviewers.<br>And to my reviewers, I'm sorry I didn't message you all, but I figured you'd rather have a new chapter.

Written to: Afterglow, Phaeleh feat. Soundmouse and Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop, Landon Pigg

I've become quite taken with writing the chapters to a single song, rather than a Pandora station. It's been helping with how I write, so that's good. But if you're wondering why the song notes are only in recent chapters that's why.  
>I swear fully one half of the views on the Afterglow YouTube video are from me writing this chapter.<p>

And no. I don't own Bones and that is not like to change any time soon.

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth leaned on the door-frame listening to Angela and Charlie discuss artwork as Brennan scrolled through her phone. With a small movement of her hand she shut the phone off and set it on the table. A chunk of her hair fell escaped from her ponytail and she pushed it back with a hand, tucking it behind her ear.<p>

Booth had taken the fastest, and by necessity the coldest, shower since his time overseas, not wanting to risk her leaving before he had gotten a chance to talk to her. Now, looking at her on the couch he realized he didn't know what to say.

_-You can start by not staring at her like a creeper._

_I snafu'd this whole thing. _

_-Psh. How do you figure that?_

_I smelled like ass when I opened the door? I haven't been able to put together a single coherent sentence?_

_-You could always ask to start over._

_That is the lamest play in the book._

_-And yet, it's still in the book. Use it. _

There was a pause in the conversation as Booth shifted his weight. Brennan turned to look at him, not shocked or surprised, just observant. Her grey blue eyes flicked over him, and for the first time in a while Booth felt self-conscious.

_Here goes nothing._

Booth stood away from the door to walk into the room and towards Brennan, he ran his left hand through his hair as he walked towards her, trying to put together what to say.

"Can we try this again?" He asked extending his right hand to her, "Hi. I'm Seeley Booth."

She slipped her hand into his, soft and warm, as electric fire raced through his nerves and up his arm to his heart.

"And I am Temperance Brennan."

_-And You. Are. Fucked._

_I know._

Booth sat down in the couch across from her.

"Sorry about earlier," he said with a smile, "I must have smelled pretty ripe."

Brennan's eyes widened and she leaned towards him, "Don't worry. I've smelled worse."

Her tone was reassuring almost apologetic, but somehow what she said didn't quite line up. As he reached to pour coffee into his favorite mug he saw Angela kick Brennan lightly.

_Wonder what that's about.  
><em>  
>Booth caught Brennan staring at the coffee pot, confused. She shook her head slightly and Booth opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong when he was interrupted by a series of loud noises from the kitchen.<p>

A muffled voice echoed from the adjoining rooms, ". . . the hell is that?"

_Hungover Sully. Shit._

"Dude, why isn't the beer-" Sully stumbled into the game room, stopping mid-thought when he saw Brennan and Angela.

"Oh, hello ladies. What brings the two of you here on this lovely Sunday morning?" he smiled politely at the girls, completely changing his attitude in the process.

Angela appraised him quickly and gave him an inviting smile, Brennan observed him quietly, her face calm and thoughts hidden.

Booth felt a sudden surge of apprehension rise up; _what if she remembers Sully? God only knows what she thinks happened . . . _

_-Nah. Too much alcohol._

_But Sully might._

_-Would that be bad? _

_I don't know. I don't know how she'd react. How he'd handle it._

_-Or not handle it._

_Exactly. _

Sully smiled back at Angela but his smiled faltered as he looked at Brennan, as though he knew he should know her and couldn't place her in his memory.

Booth waited for it to fall into place. He waited for the look of recognition and confusion that should have been all over Sully's face, but never came.

Sully reached down to offer his hand to both girls in turn, "I'm Tim Sullivan, you can call me Sully, everyone does."

"Angela," she said taking his hand, "Nice to meet you."

She gestured toward Brennan as he offered his hand to her, "This is Brennan."

Brennan took his hand and gripped it, "Brennan huh? Interesting name."

"It is my surname, I prefer it to my given name."

Sully gave a polite nod and releasing her hand he sat down by Charlie.

"Coffee?" Sully asked, surprised, as he looked at the table.

"Yes, coffee." Booth fired back in his _ask and I kick your ass_ voice. Sully shrugged, picked up an empty mug, and sat at the other end of Booth's couch.

Booth picked up his coffee cup, taking a long drink as he thought to himself. A feeling oddly similar to relief was coursing through him.

_She doesn't remember him. Thank God._

_-Dude. We covered this like, three seconds ago, she was passed out under the bushes. She's not going to remember jack shit._

_Sully doesn't remember either._

_-Not surprising. Although, now, he's going to hit on both of them until they bruse. _

_True._

Not that Booth usually cared, normally he wouldn't go near the same girls as Sully, and it wasn't like Sully was a bad guy. A stupid guy, sure. Not a bad guy. But Brennan was different, special; and Booth was not about to let her get away.

_What I need is to make sure he hasn't got a shot with her._

_-You mean you want to intentionally cockblock the guy._

_Yep._

"So, Brennan, what's your major?" Booth interrupted.

Her attention shifted quickly to Booth, her eyes wide, like she wasn't sure what to say. She glanced at Angela who shrugged; Booth could read the message loud and clear. '_There's no point in lying.'_

Brennan cleared her throat, "I am studying to be a Forensic Anthropologist."

Booth nodded, "So, you'll be one of those people that look at artifacts and things to see how old they are, where they're from, and what they're worth?"

"No, that's an Archaeologist, I look at human remains to determine how and where someone lived and died."

"Human remains?" Sully wrinkled his nose, "That's got to reek."

'_Don't worry I've smelled worse' . . . she wasn't trying to be nice, she was telling the truth. _

"Sometimes," She continued looking at Sully, "But I primarily focus on the underlying skeletal structure. The entire narrative of someone's existence is written on their bones."

"Is there much call for that?" Booth asked, and Brennan's attention shifted to him.

"There are applications for physical anthropologists in many fields. Identifying remains after natural disasters floods, fires and the like; dating remains for archaeologists, and cataloging and identifying remains in the event of a war; there are other applications, but those are the ones with the most social recognition."

"So you deal a lot in human anatomy and physiology then?" Sully and the girls looked up at Charlie, having forgotten he was there.

Brennan furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the left slightly, "While it is not the central focus of my field of study, all anthropology students are expected to have a working understanding of human anatomy and physiology. Why do you ask?"

Charlie cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Booth.

_Goddammit Charlie._

"Booth's taking his anatomy and physiology requirement again for the third, and according to the school, final time."

Booth shot a piercing glare at Charlie before sighing and shaking his head, "I'm not doing, um, well."

"You're failing that _again_?" Sully was indignant.

Booth turned on Sully, angry and frustrated.

"Yes _again_. I'm not good with all the muscle groups and different cells and systems and the three million tiny fucking bones and-"

"- two hundred and six." Brennan interrupted.

Sully and Booth went silent, everyone turned to look at Brennan who sat, focused on Booth, obviously perplexed.

_Did she just . . . _"What?" he asked out loud.

"The human skeletal structure has two hundred and six bones. Not three million. In fact I am unfamiliar with any animal that has three million bones. Snakes can have over five hundred vertebrae, but even allowing for the addition of rib bones, skull, and other miscellaneous bones, that is nowhere near your estimate of three million."

_-She is so out of your league . . ._

Sully's actual voice interrupted Booth's train of thought, "Dude. I totally helped you study when you took that last semester."

"You wrote the names of the major muscle groups on me when I was asleep!"

Sully smirked, "It was practical."

"It was in permanent marker," Booth bellowed.

He was startled out of his anger by an unfamiliar laugh, full and musical. He turned to see Brennan, her smile wide, brightening her face, her eyes closed almost entirely.

_Beautiful._

"As humorous as I imagine that to be, I can also see how it would be impractical for studying." Her words were punctuated with gasps, and each gasp fed a new short laugh.

_-Smart and beautiful._

"In fact, I'm sure there was no way for you to practically study the muscle groups of the _gluteus maximus _without a mirror." Her sentence dissolved into more laughter.

_Perfect._

Booth missed the look that Charlie and Angela shared; he was smiling with Brennan and oblivious to everything else.

Absently he heard Angela clear her throat and say something to Brennan in a low voice, and the laughter stopped.

"What?" He looked between Angela and Brennan. Angela looked back at him and took a deep sip of coffee while Brennan stared at the floor.

She shrugged with one shoulder as she put the mug down, "I just suggested that perhaps Brennan could tutor you."

At that Brennan looked up and met Booth's eyes before looking at the floor again, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "I can't", before it turned into an inaudible whisper.

Angela leaned in responding with something he couldn't hear, but he could watch Brennan's face. Warring emotions flashed across it, obligation and reluctance.

She looked up and met his eyes with a resigned sigh.

"I don't normally tutor students, and certainly not for a class as basic as anatomy and physiology. But given that I am in debt to you for your actions last night," she sighed, "I will make an exception in this case."

"I would really appreciate it," Booth paused, "Not to rush this or anything, but when can we meet?"

"Whenever is most convenient for you."

"Is Monday ok? I have a test coming up and . . ."

"Tomorrow?" Brennan interrupted him.

Booth had to think for a moment, his weekend had apparently evaporated, "Yeah. Is that ok?"

"It seems it must be if you are to pass your exam. Would it be simplest to study here?"

Booth opened his mouth to say something and stopped, stuck.

_We can't study here._

_-Why the hell not? _

_Noise for one. The guys for another. I need somewhere quiet._

_-So . . . you're actually going to study?_

_That's the idea._

There was a low cough to his right, and Charlie spoke as though reading Booth's mind, "You probably want to study somewhere else, it can be a little loud here, even on Mondays."

"A little?" Sully spoke up, "Dude, tomorrow night is Call of Duty night."

Brennan looked at Sully, confused.

"It's a video game." Said Booth helpfully, "And they're right, you're not going to be able to hear yourself think."

"One does not actually hear oneself think . . ." Brennan began, pausing when Angela nudged her with her knee, "There is a coffee -cart in front of the Library at North Western. Do you know it? We could meet there and then study in the Library."

"It shouldn't be hard to find, what time are you free?"

"Any time after five in the evening should be acceptable."

Booth nodded, "I can make it up by five thirty."

"Excellent." She looked down as she said it, but Booth could have sworn that he saw a shy smile flicker across her face.

_What do I say now?_

_-When is the last time you actually talked to a girl? _

_Like this?_

_-Like this._

_Rebecca. _

Angela coughed and set her coffee cup on the table, "We have to get going. The canvas shop I go to is only open for another hour. I'm really sorry." She stood and smiled at everyone in turn, "It was really nice to meet you all."

Brennan nodded, "Yes. Thank you for the coffee."

"Anytime." said Charlie with a kind smile.

Booth stood and moved to join them, Sully did as well, but Booth glared at him and pointed discreetly at the couch. Sully smirked, shrugged, and sat back down.

Angela and Brennan were in the entryway when Booth joined them.

Booth looked Brennan, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She stared at him, "I would not have agreed to tutor you tomorrow if I knew in advance that I would not be able to keep our appointment."

Booth was silent for a moment.

_-Ok, so she's brilliant. But she has no idea how to talk like a normal person._

_It's kinda cute._

_-And you're kinda fucked._

_I know._

Brennan had continued to walk towards the door, Booth caught up to her just as she reached it.

"You know, that was rhetorical." Booth said aloud. They stood just inside the open door; Angela was already half way to the bus.

"What was?" Brennan looked at him, confused.

"What I said, about seeing you tomorrow, I know I'm going to see you."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wasn't asking. It's a figure of speech, it's like saying, 'We'll talk more tomorrow and I look forward to seeing you then.""

"Then why didn't you just say that?"

"Next time I will just say that." Booth said with a laugh.

Brennan nodded, solemn and thoughtful, "We'll talk more tomorrow and I look forward to seeing you then."

Booth smiled, "Yeah, me too."

Seeley Booth stood fixed in place, holding the edge of the open door with his left hand; his right swung up to tunnel his fingers into his hair as he watched Temperance Brennan walk away.

* * *

><p>So there you go, we <em>finally<em> made it to the set up. Aren't we excited? I know I am.  
>I'm really super scared that this chapter stinks and I'm the last to know. Mostly because it came together really easy. Please let me know what you all think!<br>This is all for you all.


	12. Chapter 12

This chapter did not come together quickly, as I'm sure you noticed. And this chapter is also longer than the others, mostly because there was A LOT that needed to happen to move us along. And even then, I had to split it up.  
>Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and super huge thanks to my reviewers. Keep up the awesome, don't forget to tell me if this chapter sucks or still needs work, I can take it.<p>

Song: Erase and Rewind; The Cardigans

And no. I still don't own the show or the characters.

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan sat in the passenger seat of the '63 VW bus, momentarily alone as Angela went into Genesis Art Supply to purchase her canvases.<p>

Closing her eyes Brennan leaned her head back, feeling the cool autumn breeze through the open windows. She listened to the sounds of the birds in the trees above, the cars passing by and the people on the street; letting the noisy music of the city blur together, blinding and white, as she attempted to piece together the unexpected path the morning had taken. Everything was fixed in her mind, perfect and rational. Right up until the door opened to reveal Seeley Booth. All events after that she recalled as blurry and unreal, as though from a dream or a distant memory, not something that had happened only minutes before. Brennan pushed her hands over her eyes, as though she could rub the morning out of them and start over.

From the right, Brennan could hear the scuffing sound of Angela's shoes on the pavement, her voice growing louder as she approached the bus; directing people to put the canvases in the back of the vehicle, to be careful, not to do something or other. Brennan felt the bus shake as Angela slammed the back closed. She kept her eyes shut as Angela got into the bus, silently hoping that Angela would believe her to be asleep. The bus started and soon Brennan felt the familiar rumble of the freeway under the vehicle.

Angela was mercifully silent for a few more minutes before, "I know you're not asleep Bren."

"Can we pretend that I am asleep?" Brennan sighed.

Angela snorted, "No." there was a pause, "What's up?"

Brennan knew what Angela was asking, and part of her wanted to be pedantic, but she found that she did not have the requisite energy to deal with Angela's response to her literalism. Instead she merely responded to Angela's implied question, "It has been an eventful and difficult morning. I am attempting to recover."

"Recover? From the hospital?"

"Yes. And from our excursion to Booth's home."

"How does our trip to Booth's house to get your purse and phone qualify as an excursion?

"The whole event was unanticipated, unplanned and ridiculous." Brennan paused, but Angela remained silent and waited for her to continue, "Finding my purse at the same house where the party was held, and that purse being returned by the person who took me to the hospital last night is, while unlikely, a series of logical events that I would have been able to see coming from five kilometers away had I not been so distracted this morning by the change in my surroundings."

"It's a mile away sweetie."

"What's a mile away?"

"You know what? Never mind!" Angela was silent for a moment before continuing, "So why does the lack of planning this morning have you all worked up?"

Brennan shifted and sighed, "I was unprepared."

"For what?"

"For interacting with people that I am unfamiliar with."

Angela took a moment, processing Brennan's statement.

_Is it too much to hope she does not press further?_

"So what you're saying is . . ."

_Yes. That is apparently too much to hope for. _

" . . . you needed to 'prepare' before meeting Booth."

"I would have liked to, yes."

"Why?"

"I am not the person he was anticipating meeting based on the events of last night and I would have liked to have been mentally prepared for the interaction."

"Honey, no amount of mental preparation could have helped with that. Trust me."

_You know she's right. _

Brennan quashed the voice, but it was too late, and she knew it was the truth.

"So, did I lie about him being hot?" Angela continued.

"While I am not entirely certain what the parameters are for being a "Sex God" I feel confident in my agreement with you that, yes; Seeley Booth is as you say it, 'hot'."

"Uh huh. So would you 'be in agreement' if I say you find him attractive?"

Brennan was silent for a moment, wanting to frame her reply so as not to give Angela more shells with which to bombard her.

"I respond to the width of his shoulders and his strong jawline." She could feel herself blushing as she spoke, "He also has pronounced inguinal ligaments, which I was surprised to find myself attracted to."

"His what is pronounced?"

"His inguinal ligaments." Brennan said, "They connect the top of the iliac crest to pubis. Like this."

She adjusted herself in her seat and ran her hands in a V from the top of her ilia to her pubis in demonstration.

Angela began to laugh, "His 'fuck me' lines. You think he's hot 'cause he has nice 'fuck me' lines."

"No. I said I responded to his inguinal ligaments."

Angela rolled her eyes, exasperated, "I know you well enough to know Brennan Code; the fact that 'you responded' means you think he's gorgeous, especially his 'inguinal ligaments', or his fuck me lines. Making your sentence 'I think he's hot and I want to _do_ him."

"That's not what I said."

"No. But it's what you meant."

Brennan glared at Angela and turned to face forward.

"I don't know what the problem is sweetie," Angela cajoled, "He's hot, you're hot, you're in college, he's _really_ hot . . . now is the time to experiment, experience what life has to offer, go get busy."

"I am often busy Angela. And in case you had forgotten I am now obligated to tutor him, any kind of sexual interaction would be inappropriate."

"You're tutoring him sweetie, not working for him."

"I am working off my debt to him."

Angela rolled her eyes. "It's an informal arrangement."

"Regardless, I don't need it to come out that I was having sex with the man I was tutoring, it could ruin my career."

"You don't have a career."

"Yet." Brennan paused and looked out the window, "Besides, it's not as though this argument has any grounds. For there to even be an issue he would have to respond to me in a similar fashion, and I doubt he feels the same physical attraction."

"If you say so." Angela responded in a doubtful tone.

Brennan continued, "Given the parameters of the current social standard of beauty and where I fall on that standard it is far more likely that Booth will be interested in you."

"I don't think so sweetie. Dress it up however you want, but all he looked at today was you."

"Most likely because my attire is so incongruous with our precious encounter; I'm certain he was merely attempting to assign me to the prevailing social ranking present at most universities."

"He wanted to do what?"

"To ascertain what subculture of students I belong to, and how that subculture ranks in relation to his own."

"Ok. I almost understood that."

"He wanted to put me in a proverbial box. Judging from his request for me to be his tutor, he has assigned me to the box for intelligent and bookish people."

"And then what? He wants you to tutor him so he can get a better grade in his class?"

"Why else would he want me to tutor him?"

"I'm not even . . ." Angela paused, exasperated, "Well what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why did you agree to tutor him?"

"You told me it was an appropriate gesture of appreciation." Brennan turned to Angela, "Did you lie to me to get me to tutor Booth?"

"What? No! It is totally an appropriate gesture; I was just hoping you had your own reasons for agreeing to help Booth."

"Oh. What sort of reasons would those be?"

"That he's _hot_. And you want to get into his _pants._" Angela restated with particular emphasis.

Brennan considered her rationale for a moment before needing further clarification. "Is it a universal assumption that one will eventually become sexually involved with whomever is being tutored?"

Angela laughed, just as Brennan became concerned that she would be unable to adequately control the vehicle Angela stopped and gasped, "God I hope not sweetie."

"Then why do you continue to use Booth's . . . I believe the term to be 'hotness' . . . as a reason for me to tutor him."

"Because you wall yourself off! The men in your life are limited to Zach, Sweets, whoever's living on the floors below us, your professors, and _Michael._" She said the last name with obvious disgust. "You need someone gorgeous and sweet and a total hero. You don't have that."

Brennan ignored Angela as they pulled up in the loading zone to the left of their dorm in uncomfortable silence. Ahead of them in the loading zone was a familiar vehicle.

Angela yanked the emergency brake on the bus and jumped out, running with abbreviated steps to where the driver of the other car was carefully unloading boxes.

"Clark!" Angela squealed.

"Oh God, here we go . . ." He said as he turned around slowly, keeping the box between himself and Angela as Brennan approached from the bus, her travel back over one shoulder.

"You came back!" Angela continued.

"I thought you said you did not intend to further your education at this institution?"

Clark looked at Brennan, "No. I said my preferred learning environment tends toward the professional." He paused and looked pointedly at Angela, "See my tie? That's an indicator."

"If you feel this to be an adverse environment to your learning ability, why did you return?" Brennan asked before Angela could speak.

"Because this is the finest forensics program in the world."

Brennan nodded understandingly, "A degree from here _would_ expand your future professional options. It is good to have you back Clark." She smiled, genuinely happy to see he had returned.

"Yeah." Angela's eyes flicked over him suggestively. Boldly enough that even Brennan noticed it.

"Still taken." He said with a smirk before walking past the two women towards the dorms.

Angela swooned dramatically, Brennan smirked and a shook her head.

Angela tugged her arm as they walked to the back of the bus.

"Clark is back!"

"I do not understand why you are so excited by Clark's return."

"Because he's Clark."

Brennan furrowed her brow, confused, but did not question Angela further.

Angela opened the back of the bus, there were a number of odd sized canvases, all small enough for one person to carry. But jammed in the middle, at a diagonal so it would fit into the bus, was an enormous canvas. Brennan just stared, Angela sighed.

"It was on sale." Angela said looking at Brennan, "I will totally grab all the rest of them if you help me get this thing up the stairs."

Brennan nodded, just wanting to get it over with so she could lie down in her own bed.

"Hey, you ok?" Angela asked, obviously concerned.

"Yes," Brennan replied, "Just tired."

Angela pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Nevermind." she said, "I'll get someone else to help me, ok?" and slammed the back of the bus shut as she took Brennan's arm. "Come on."

As they walked across the lawn Brennan noticed a man kneeling on a small carpet, bowing as he prayed.

"Aw, Arastoo's back!" Angela said, genuinely happy.

Brennan waved as he sat up, she knew he couldn't acknowledge her while praying, but that was no excuse not to be polite.

They walked through the security door into the dorm and Brennan was struck with the realization that nothing had changed while she was gone. The light still flickered in the cement stairwell, the door still closed with an alarming echo, the large bank of glass that formed the outer wall of the entire stairwell let in a disproportionately small amount of light; and those simple facts made her feel that she had been away longer than the 18 some odd hours it had actually been.

As they walked up the stairs Brennan focused entirely on putting one foot in front of the other, so much so that she didn't hear a door above her open and close with a slam.

"Oh! Doctor Brennan! You're back!"

Brennan sighed and looked up as a petite brunette appeared over the railing, "Daisy I have asked you repeatedly not to call me Doctor Brennan."

"But you only have a year left before you're done! And there's no way you _won't_ get your doctorate! You should get used to people calling you that now!"

Daisy bounded down the stairs coming to a bouncy stop in front of Angela and Brennan.

Angela smiled tightly, "Daisy, hi, I didn't know you were back."

Daisy smiled and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder before shrugging her shoulders, "Yes. Well. I wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow, but I just couldn't stand the thought of not being here as much as I could. Don't you just feel smarter here? I know I do. I just love it. I was so excited about returning. And-"

"Daisy," Brennan interrupted, "While I am pleased you are so enthusiastic about your education, I am rather tired and would like to go to my room and clean up before continuing with any social interaction."

"Oh! Yes! Here, let me help," Daisy piped up, as she reached for Brennan's bag.

Angela stopped her, "You know what would be really helpful? If you could get some of the smaller canvases out of my bus and bring them up."

"Oh! Are you sure? Because I am very-"

"Yes." Angela interrupted, "I am sure."

"Oh." Daisy gave Angela a tight lipped smile as she navigated between them and the walls, her smile widened and became genuine as she passed Brennan. It was not until they heard the all familiar slam of the security door that Angela and Brennan relaxed and continued up the stairs.

"I do not know why," Brennan said as they got to their floor, "But interaction with Daisy always makes me apprehensive."

"Don't worry sweetie, she makes everyone feel like that."

Angela pushed open the door and was greeted with the sound of two men arguing, loudly. She looked pointedly at Brennan, who shook her head and sighed.

Brennan looked past Angela to where Zach was standing next to another young man wearing only a white towel around his waist. He was 1.75 meters at most, with a wide distance between his clavicles, muscle definition that rivaled Booth's, curly dark blond hair on his head and chest, and bright blue eyes.

Zach was holding a glass jar over his own head, just out of reach of the other man.

"It's just a jar of sand." Zach yelled, "There is no perceived or actual intrinsic value here."

"It's not sand." The shorter man yelled back, "It's a particular combination of silica and calcium carbonate found only in a certain part of the world."

"Then it belongs in a lab. Not a dormitory."

"Personal objects have no place in a lab."

"Objects that belong in a lab have no place being personal."

Brennan stomped down the hall.

Startled, Zach dropped his hand and Brennan snatched the glass jar from him.

"What is this?" she demanded, shaking the jar.

"It's a particular combination of silica and calcium carbonate found only on the shores of the Dead Sea. The lowest point on earth not covered in water or ice." he said tightly, "And it has very real sentimental value." He finished, glaring at Zach.

Brennan sighed and handed the jar back to the man in a towel, "If this continues I will be forced to involve our new RA." She said, addressing both men, "I would rather not, she is rigid and demanding. However, in the interest of my personal peace of mind I _will_ go to her with this." The blond man pointed the first finger of his right hand at Zach angrily, his brow furrowed and lips tight; he curled the finger into his fist, his entire arm shaking involuntarily as he pinched the rubber band around his right wrist with the thumb and first finger of his left hand. He snapped it once, hard, and Brennan could see him wince with the pain, then he turned abruptly and walked back into his room.

"Thank you Brennan. Your assistance in dissolving the situation was invaluable." Said Zach.

"All she did was delay the inevitable."

Brennan turned to see Sweets coming towards them, his boots scuffed along the carpet as he walked. She could tell he had been at a concert the night prior from his manner of dress; torn black jeans draped with chains, a black shirt that read "Dark Funeral" in decorative white lettering, and his white and black makeup smudged from sleeping in it.

"Oh look the phallus can talk." Zach fired at him. Sweets grew angry but suppressed the emotion.

"These sorts of altercations are going to continue, and possibly escalate, until the issue at the root of them is resolved."

"And what does your pseudoscience suggest we do, Professor Phallus?"

"It's not pseudoscience! And I have asked you repeatedly to refrain from referring to me as a phallus!"

"I would have to agree that it is, in fact, a pseudoscience." Brennan interjected looking at Sweets, turning to Zach she continued, "However it is not Sweets' fault he was given an unfortunate first name. Please terminate all references to sexual organs or objects when talking to or about him."

Zach frowned and his nose crinkled. "Fine."

"I also have to concede that Sweets is correct in his assessment of your interactions with your new roommate, even if he did come to that conclusion using unproven methods," she could hear Sweets snort behind her, but she ignored him and continued, "why don't you find something that will create a common ground between the two of you."

"Like what?" Zach said, crossing his arms.

"An experiment perhaps. If your roommate is a scientist as you are, there should be a considerable number of experiments you can perform."

The door opened unexpectedly and a blond head poked out through the space, blue eyes dilated and bright, "I have some liquid nitrogen, you want to freeze some stuff?"

Zach turned abruptly, "You can't have that in the dorms!" he whispered, as though certain someone would hear him.

The blond man looked completely unimpressed, "Are you going to turn me in or are you going to freeze some stuff that should never, ever, be frozen."

Zach thought for a brief moment before dashing through the door and locking it from the inside.

Angela laughed out loud as she turned and unlocked their own door.

Brennan looked at Sweets, "I would recommend washing your face soon, that type of makeup is not designed to be worn for extended periods of time and can have an adverse effect on your complexion."

"Whatever." He muttered before stomping back to his room.

As Brennan stepped inside she felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

_Home at last._

* * *

><p>TOTALLY forgot to put this here, my bad. But here it is now.<em><br>_

Text Note: In my mind; Lance = super ultra-phallic object. (seriously, look at one, they're like giant pointy penises) Watching the show, whenever someone calls him Lance all I hear is Phallus. And when Daisy calls him Lancelot all I hear is "Fucks Everything" (lance-a-lot).

I may have issues.

But now you all understand why Brennan calls him Sweets earlier in the story.

This all is for you all.

And you all rock.


	13. Chapter 13

HOLY FUCKPOPPLES A NEW CHAPTER!  
><em>I know right?!<em>  
>As I may have mentioned, I had to split up Brennan's chapter, which meant splitting Booth's so the pattern would stay. However, I think this really worked out well for the chapters as a whole. I am diligently working on the second halves, which mostly just need a polish, but as you know they have to be just right first.<p>

I'd also like to thank my reviewers for kicking ass and keeping me going. Seriously. Y'all are why I do this.

Black Canvas, Imogen Heap (I know it's a repeat, but it helped me finish the chapter.)

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth walked down the entry hall of his house, nearly colliding with Sully at the other end.<p>

"I like her. She's got _sauce_." Sully said with a smirk.

Booth pointed one angry finger at Sully, "No."

Sully grinned back, completely unconcerned by Booth's anger, "No? Why no?" he settled his hands behind his head and arched his back in a stretch while looking at Booth, "Is it because you like her?"

Booth scrubbed his face with his hands and walked to the game room, trying to rub away the night before, "No, she just . . ." he paused, collapsing into a couch, unsure how to continue, "you just . . ."

Sully stared at him expectantly.

"Booth found you and Drew dragging her to your car last night. You apparently 'found her under some bushes.'"

Booth and Sully looked over at Charlie who looked back flatly.

Sully was obviously surprised, and a little shocked, "I did not . . ." he began before looking back and forth between Charlie and Booth, "Did I?"

Charlie nodded. "You wanted to take her home."

"I believe your words were, "take care of her, wash her, feed her"," Booth looked pointedly at Sully.

"Admittedly, not the best choice of words," he responded, raising his hands defensively, "but c'mon, you don't _actually_ think I had anything to do with her being under the bushes?"

Booth sighed, "No. That's not you. From what Walt got from Wendall, she was here with some douche in a dinner jacket, he picked up her drinks."

Sully snorted, "A dinner jacket at a kegger? Seriously? Who the fuck was this guy?"

They were silent for a moment, drinking their coffee until something occurred to Booth.

"So wait." Booth paused, "What would you have done with her? If you had gotten her to the car?"

Sully blushed and looked at the floor, "If I had to guess, probably what happened last time." Charlie and Booth stared at Sully, eyes wide before speaking simultaneously.

"What happened last time?" Charlie asked, stunned.

"There was a last time?" Booth questioned with a dangerous edge in his voice.

Sully jumped a little at Booth's tone before saying, "Breakfast." as though there were no other logical response.

It took a minute for the word to sink in.

"Breakfast?" Booth asked, still not sure he heard the word properly.

"Yeah, pancakes, bacon, coffee, the works."

"Dude. What the actual fuck?"

"I've been taking drunk girls home, letting them sleep it off, and making them breakfast for the past year or so. I guess Drunk Sully thought he should do the same thing." Charlie and Booth stared at him, "What?! What's wrong with that?" He demanded.

"Nothing," Charlie paused and chuckled, "It's sweet." he finished with a laugh.

"If you're a girl." Booth added, laughing as well.

Sully glared, "Shut the fuck up." he paused and grew sad, "Drunk Sully really misses Charlotte."

Charlie and Booth stopped laughing abruptly, seeing the pain evident in Sully's eyes.

"_I_ really miss Charlotte." He whispered.

"Hey man, I didn't mean . . ." Booth began but Sully cut him off.

"It's cool. You didn't know. Just leave it ok?"

Booth nodded silently, watching Sully, not knowing what to say. His thoughts spinning out of control.

-_Nice one asshole._

_I had no idea he even still thought about her._

_-Oh, you mean the way you _never_ think about Rebecca._

_Not the same. I don't miss Rebecca. He misses Charlotte._

_-Do you blame him?_

_Not in the least._

"Is that decaf?" A voice Booth knew all too well interrupted his thoughts.

_Walt's back. _

"Why the fuck would it be decaf at this ungodly hour?" responded another voice.

_Apparently Hank's back too._

"That had better not be decaf." Walt continued.

"It's not decaf. I made the pot myself." Charlie fired back with finality.

Booth looked up to see Charlie and Walt lock eyes for a moment before Walt nodded and poured himself a cup. Booth took the coffee pot from Walt and poured another cup, handing it to Hank as he rolled up to the couch.

"Thanks."

Booth nodded in response, having just noticed that Walt was standing, coffee cup still in hand, not moving. He looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time, confusion evident on his face.

"Someone want to tell me why we're in here? There's no liquid allowed in the game room." He rotated with halting steps as though checking to make sure he was in the right place, "We are in the game room right? And since when did we put out spoons and sugar and shit and make like girls at a tea party?"

He stopped turning and stared straight ahead without making eye contact with anyone, "Did someone make off in the night with our collective dicks? What the fuck?"

He cocked his head to one side, thinking, before finally looking down at Booth, "It was _her_ purse?"

Booth nodded.

"Huh."

Walt sat down, put his feet on the table and sucked down his coffee.

"So what's her name?"

"Temperance Brennan."

"Am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on?" Hank looked from Booth to Charlie to Walt and Sully, waiting.

"Probably." Walt offered, "You're a loser by the way."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?" Hank grumbled.

Walt glared at him, "Earplugs? Locked door? Completely ditching the party? Any of this sounding familiar?"

Hank rolled his eyes, "I didn't feel like dealing with drunk chicks."

"Pussy."

"If I wanted that I would have gone to the party . . ." Hank fired back with a smile. Walt snorted and took another drink of coffee as Hank looked around the room, "Someone going to fill me in?"

"Sully here pulled an unconscious girl from under the bushes in the back, and I took her to the hospital and apparently saved her life." Booth muttered.

Hank's eyebrow lifted wryly and he looked at Sully who sat quietly, nodding. He turned back to Booth, "What does this have to do with the purse being here? I'll just assume it was hers."

"Yeah . . . she came back for it. Just left in fact."

"And it all comes together," finished Hank, leaning back in his chair. "Sounds like a busy morning."

Booth grunted and nodded, tired of talking.

_I never got my nap._

The realization was enlightening; _I'll feel better with some sleep. Or more coffee._

He looked into his coffee cup hopefully.

_-Bro, there's not enough coffee in the world._

Booth stood and put his cup down, "I'm gonna go crash."

"Getting old?" jibed Hank.

"Shut it or I'll slash your tires."

Hank just laughed. Booth could hear the conversation shift as he left the room, strategies for Call of Duty, where to order dinner from, if they had enough beer; he was almost out of earshot when he heard Walt, "He going to be ok?"

"We'll know after he sleeps it off." That was Charlie.

"He was really out of it." Hank this time.

"Man, you have no idea." Walt again.

Booth felt awkward listening in on his friends, but it was also good to know they cared.

Sometimes that was all you had.

He knew from experience.

Letting the conversation go Booth trudged up the stairs to his room, he didn't remember the walk taking this long when Brennan was in his arms. Or when he'd left her at the hospital. Or when she was waiting for him downstairs.

His thoughts had carried him up the stairs and despite how long it seemed to take he was once again at his bedroom door. He took a breath and leaned against it with one shoulder as he turned the knob, opening it. Tired, he let his head rest against the edge of the door before letting go and walking into the room. He pushed the door closed behind him with one foot and walked over to his bed, shoving aside the piles of clothes and garbage on his floor with his feet. A white plastic bag with a new sheet set sat in the center of his bare bed.

He picked up the package and shook his head; _Sully must have felt like shit. _

_-How can you tell?_

_They're not the fucked up cheap ones he got me last time._

Booth's inner Sully snorted in response.

Booth ignored him as he made his bed. The new crisp sheets and unwrinkled comforter looked out of place in his room.

_I'll never get to sleep in this mess._

He scowled and picked up the garbage littering the floor, stuffing it into bags and boxes, he left it in a pile by the door and resolved to take it down after his nap.

_Like hell I'm doing those stairs again right now. _

Booth grabbed his stray clothes and tossed them into a pile, as he picked up a tee shirt he saw a glint. A flat piece of silvery plastic about the size of a quarter glittered at him from the carpet. He bent down to pick it up, and rubbed it between his fingers.

It was off Brennan's dress.

That tiny excuse for a dress.

It must have come off when his watch got caught.

He sat on his bed and watched it catch the light as he rolled it across the back of his knuckles.

It hypnotized him.

She had hypnotized him.

_Brennan._

* * *

><p>For those of you who are wondering, Charlotte <em>is<em> a figment of my imagination. Sully needed some damage, we may or may not find out what that damage is, I haven't decided yet.  
>I also feel I should mention, Hank in this story is Hank Latrell, the wheelchair bound judge and friend of Booth that we meet in Season 1 Episode 21. I've always wished they would bring him back, so he's here in my story. Along with Charlie. Whom I also adore.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Oh you guys. I wouldn't be posting this without you all.  
>I love my reviewers.<br>I'm doing my best to keep up this pace with the chapters, I don't know how long it will last, but I can say for sure your reviews inspire me to write more faster. So thanks for that.

And for goodness sake, don't you think I would tell you if I owned Bones?

Written to: Winter in my Heart, VAST

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan walked into her room and let her travel bag drop from her shoulder to the floor. She took the two and a half steps to her bed before falling onto it face first.<p>

"So. Did Michael call you?" Angela asked from the door, "Or was I right about his being a colossal waste of your time?"

Brennan turned her head to the side, not bothering to open her eyes or sit up, "There were seven missed calls, three from you, and another five from Zach."

She paused for a moment, "However, Michael did send three rather cryptic text messages."

"Cryptic?" Angela asked. Brennan could feel Angela's weight sinking into the mattress as she sat on the bed.

_She's not going to leave until you tell her what she wants to hear._

Brennan scowled and pulled the phone out of her pocket and handed it to Angela. She waited for Angela to read them.

Brennan remembered them perfectly.

-_What room are you in?_

-_Where did you go?_

-_Fine then. I'll see you in lab._

"Honey, these aren't really cryptic." Angela said as she handed the phone back, "He's being butthurt because he thinks you ditched him."

Brennan put one hand over her eyes and rubbed her face, "I do not see how you know he has pain in his gluteus maximus, or how that pain would theoretically relate to his feelings about what may or may not have happened at the party."

"No honey. Butthurt is a slang adjective describing his childish and rude behavior."

"I see the distinction." Brennan rolled onto her back and looked up into Angela's eyes, "However your assessment of Michael's emotional state is based solely on three out of context text messages."

Angela snorted in disgust, "I just think he's a waste of your time."

"I cannot consider him to be a waste of my time without giving him the opportunity to explain himself."

Angela did not look impressed or convinced, "As far as I'm concerned he lost the right to explain much of anything when he walked out on you last night." Brennan looked at the phone in her hand as Angela continued, "But it's up to you. If you want to hear his lame ass story, you go right on ahead."

Angela didn't leave, she just waited for Brennan to decide; call Michael or don't.

Brennan held her phone in her hand, staring at the contacts page, Michael's name at the top.

_I should call him and ask what happened._

Angela's voice echoed through her head.

_-It doesn't matter _what_ he says happened, he _left_ you. _

Brennan took a breath and tapped the call button on her phone. Waiting. Listening.

Ring.

_Silence_

Ring.

_Silence_

Ring.

_Silence_

"What do you need Temperance?"

Brennan started at the angry tone in his voice, "I-" she paused to take a breath before continuing, "I am wondering what happened to you last night?"

"What do you think happened? You took off with some Neanderthal and I went home. Alone."

"What do you mean took off with?"

"I saw you. He was carrying you up the stairs; I don't want to know what else you did."

Brennan breathed in sharply, "Michael I-"

"Stop. Just stop. You don't have to make excuses to me; you're a grown woman and I'm not your boyfriend. Although I won't deny wishing that were different, that is apparently past us now."

"Michael, please, I-", Brennan hesitated as she searched for the words, "I don't know what happened last night."

"What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know?"

"I was drugged Michael. I woke up in the hospital this morning. I have no memory of last night."

"My god, Tempe, where are you now? Do you need me to come get you?" His tone changed, became sympathetic, and Brennan released a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"No. Thank you." She replied.

"Are you sure?"

"I am with Angela. I just wanted to call and find out where you were, and what happened to you."

There was a pause, "Did he touch you?"

"To whom are you referring?"

"That Neanderthal that carried you up the stairs."

"Of course he touched me Michael, how else would he get me up the stairs?"

"No! Temperance," he paused dramatically, "did he hurt you?"

Brennan found herself rolling her eyes at his tone and timbre, "I do not know to which male individual you are referring, however according to the personnel at the hospital I did not sustain any kind of injury or assault."

There was silence on the phone for a moment, then, "I'm glad you're all right."

"As am I."

"I regret not doing more for you last night. I'm afraid I let my jealousy get the better of me."

"I understand Michael, you are human after all."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, thank you Michael." Brennan paused, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. See you then Tempe."

"Good-bye."

Brennan pulled the phone from her ear and tapped the end call button, already thinking over her conversation with Michael.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Brennan tossed the phone onto her nightstand and tried to avoid the conversation.

"Don't even try it sweetie. What did Michael have to say for himself?"

"He was under the impression that I was sexually active with another partygoer, thereby rejecting him. And so he left."

"How the hell did he jump to that conclusion?"

"He observed a man carrying me up the stairs."

Angela's brow furrowed, "That was probably Booth."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Tell you what, you ask him tomorrow. If I'm right you're buying."

"What am I buying?"

"Dinner. Sushi."

"When?"

"Whenever."

"Fine. I accept your terms."

"So what else did he say?"

"About what?"

"About you being sexually active with another partygoer."

"But I wasn't."

"But Michael _thinks_ you were. And so in his mind, you were."

Brennan considered Angela's argument.

"I see your point. To wit; Michael seemed genuinely upset and hurt with the idea of me interacting physically with someone. He also pointed out that he had intended to formally express interest in a customary courtship agreement."

"English sweetie."

"He expressed a desire to be my boyfriend."

"Oh hell no."

"I do not understand your disapproval."

"Booth has shown you more respect in the past 18 hours than Michael has in the entire time you've known him. Michael is condescending and rude."

"Michael is a very nice person, I do not think you know him well enough to make an assessment of his character."

"Oh honey. Booth_ is_ a nice person, Michael is _pretending_ to be a nice person, there's a difference." She sighed deeply, "How often does Michael talk with you?"

Brennan opened her mouth to speak before being interrupted by Angela, "Not _to_ you. _With_ you. When is the last time you gave your opinion on something and he took it seriously."

Brennan stopped and thought.

_What about . . ._

_ . . . no, that was repeated by another student before he listened._

_Well there was that one time that . . ._

_ . . . no, he came to the same conclusion as I did and acted upon it without speaking to me._

_Ok, but you're forgetting . . ._

_ . . . I'm not forgetting anything. Angela's right. He does not listen to my thoughts, and when he responds he only talks _to_ me. _

_But just now on the phone . . . _

_ . . . he avoided any manner of apology or responsibility for what occurred. _

Brennan tried to hide the revelation, tried to keep it from showing on her face, not that it ever worked.

"I'm right aren't I?" Angela asked knowingly.

Brennan nodded, stunned.

"Look. It doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to him," she continued, "It just means that dating him is probably the worst idea you've ever had."

Angela stood, Brennan could feel the change in how the bed distributed weight.

"I'll figure out dinner, ok?"

Brennan nodded and closed her eyes again, listening to Angela leave the room and shut the door behind her.

Her mind drifted, and she let it, she found herself remembering the feel of Booth's skin under her hand, her own unexpected physical response to his unintentional stimulation, and the way his breathing changed when she touched him.

A part of her recoiled from the memory; she had been so focused and desperate to correct the course of her day and to control the order of remaining events, and he had upended that.

No.

He had shattered it.

Brennan prided herself on being a serious, intelligent, and committed graduate student with a bright and promising future ahead of her.

She did _not _respond to pheromone secretions and the odor of sweat and canvas.

She did _not_ get distracted by a physically superior male and the way he looked with his shirt off, or the way his skin felt under her hand, or how very close he had been to her.

Temperance Brennan did _not_ get distracted.

She did _not._

_-Sweetie. You are _so_ distracted._


	15. Chapter 15

First off, the 150th ep was AMAZEBALLS. I was floored. FLOORED. I want more of that kitchen dancing.  
>There may have to be ipod kitchen dancing in this story, it was so awesome.<p>

Anyway, back to the real AN:  
>I love you guys. You're all so awesome.<br>Please don't breakup with me because of this chapter.  
>I need you all to trust me. This chapter is an important character thing.<p>

Because reasons.

The first half was written to: Always a Good Time, Owl City and that one Carly Rae person . . . Jepson I think.  
>The second half was written to: The Trick is to Keep Breathing, Garbage<p>

**Above all:  
>Read through to the end before you ragequit. Please.<br>If you're under the age of 18 GTFO. kthxbai  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Seeley Booth had a problem.<p>

He had woken up from his nap with a raging hard on and the vague memory of silky brown hair and icy blue eyes.

Even now as he walked down the hall he could feel her, see her. He shook his head to clear her from it.

It didn't work.

How was she doing this? He'd talked to her for an hour, tops, and she was already more in his head than anyone had ever been.

It was damn frustrating.

_-how the hell are you going to make it through any period alone with her without sporting wood the whole time?_

Booth ran a hand through his hair. Fortunately, he had a solution.

It was the same solution he always had.

_I need to get laid_.

He always went to the same person, for over a year they'd gone to each other whenever they were stressed, or just horny. It never went further than that though, and neither of them wanted it to.

And now he was here, looking for her new place.

He passed some kid who looked like a reject from Kiss and stopped in front of the door he was looking for; a small corkboard had hours of availability, emergency contact info, and dorm rules hung in the center. A whiteboard with the name C. Saroyan in precise script hung just below it. Without knocking Booth turned the knob and walked into the room.

He sauntered into the living area, smirking as Cam stood abruptly.

"Seeley? What are you doing here?"

Booth gave the room a cursory glance, "We alone?"

Cam looked at him, saying _'Of course we're alone, I was studying.'_ with only her eyes and a quirk of her mouth.

Booth grinned and rushed her, wrapping his arms around her waist and slinging her over his broad shoulder.

"What are you doing!?" she shrieked, following it up with a laugh.

Booth didn't respond, he simply took off down the hall, half walking half running to her bedroom.

"Seeley!" she yelled, and he felt her halfheartedly pounding on his butt and lower back with her fists as she squirmed and kicked her feet.

With one smooth movement of his arms and shoulder he sent her flying onto her bed.

"No hello Camille?" Booth said as she looked up at him laughing, his mouth curling into a lopsided smirk.

"Hello." She rolled her eyes as she shimmed out of her sweatpants and tank top. "And don't call me Camille."

Booth grinned back as he pulled off his shirt and shucked his pants and boxers in a single movement.

"Don't call me Seeley."

Cam rolled her eyes and crawled to her nightstand, wiggling her ass deliberately, pulling out the drawer torturously slow before turning and tossing a small silver packet at him. Booth caught it with ease and tore it open.

Booth stepped up to the edge of the bed as he rolled on the condom. Cam let her knees fall open and he watched as her hand crept lower, "Hurry up or I'm starting without you."

Booth looked down to see he'd pulled too hard and ripped the condom with one of his fingernails. He groaned.

"What?"

"I need another one."

Cam reached for the drawer, laughing.

"It's not funny."

"Yeah it is." She said, still laughing, and passed him another one.

This time he ignored the descent of her hand and the moans that escaped her as she waited on him.

With a considerable lack of grace he jumped onto the bed, caging her in with his arms and legs.

"It's been a while." She said, arching her back.

Her movement lifted her breasts to his chest, teasing his skin with the silky fabric of her bra.

"Fuck." Booth groaned out involuntarily.

Cam stopped and met his eyes, "I thought that was the idea."

"You know what?" Booth started, finishing his sentence by thrusting into her.

"Oh _fuck_."

Booth responded by moving in and out of her as slowly as he could possibly handle.

"Goddamn it, fuck me." She whined.

Booth chuckled and leaned in to lick and bite her neck, still moving torturously slow.

"AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh hhhhhhh _FUCK_."

Cam rocked her hips into his trying in vain to simulate harder thrusts, her head thrashed back and forth.

Booth loved her sex tantrums.

_Here come the threats._

Cam grabbed his head and forced him to look into her glaring eyes, "You promised fucking. Not sweet, sweet love. Now fuck me or I kick your ass."

Booth laughed and thrust hard into her, bottoming out, grinding into her clit.

"_Yes_."

He adjusted his hips, lifting hers with his, and began pulling out and thrusting forward with as much force as he could manage. With every return he angled his hips up, stroking the length of his cock along her g-spot, then grinding her clit again before pulling out.

Her screams went from obscene to incoherent.

Booth grinned, he's spent _months_ perfecting this, and watching what it did to her never got old.

He could feel her getting hotter around him, her moans giving way to words again.

"Oh fuck."

_Thrust._

"Oh, _fuck_."

_Thrust._

"Sweet fucking Christ."

_Thrust._

"Shit."

_Thrust._

"SEELEY . . . . FUCK . . ."

He could feel her pulsing around him, her body shook and she choked on her screams as she cried out. He gripped her hips with both hands and moved her in time with his own rhythm.

"Don't."

_Thrust._

"Call."

_Thrust._

"Me."

_Thrust._

"Seeley."

_Thrust._

He hit her just right with his final thrust and she came again, cursing and moaning his name.

"Fuck, _gasp_, god, _gasp_, Boooooooooth, _gasp_, damn, _gasp._"

Booth smiled at the use of his last name and leaned back on his heels, his cock completely out of her, painfully hard. He tapped her left hip twice with his right hand. She rolled her eyes before shifting onto her knees and elbows.

With a chuckle and a snarl Booth let go of his aggression and frustration and fucked it into oblivion. He listened to Cam's scream, the keening wail from the back of her throat, the sound of her losing her damn mind.

He slammed into her, over and over again as she screamed into her pillow. Looking down he grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling it apart to watch his cock disappearing into her.

He thrust harder and deeper, relishing her gasping moaning cries, the feel of their bodies colliding, the sound of the bed against the wall; until he heard her head hit the headboard.

She shrieked and pulled herself off of him, kicking him away with a foot, her eyes squeezed shut.

Booth fell back on the bed, laughing uncontrollably.

"Ow. Fuck. Goddamnit Booth, it's not funny."

"Yeah it is." He said, mocking her.

She glowered at him.

"You want me to kiss it better?" he asked, managing to even sound concerned.

"No," she sassed, "I want you to fuck it better."

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back to him, thrusting into her hard and deep, "Mmmm. Better?"

She rolled her hips against him, changing the angle of his cock and moving it inside of her, "Yeah."

He put his hands on her ankles and pushed them back towards her head as far as he knew he could, sliding himself in and out. She gave her hips a little roll, one she knew he liked, and he lost it.

"_Fuck._" He gasped and came, pulsing inside her, all his anxiety drifting away.

He let go of her ankles and fell forward on his arms, dropping his forehead to Cam's, still breathing heavy.

"You ok big guy?"

Booth nodded, pulling her head with his own, "Better now."

"Good." She said, rubbing his shoulder, "Me too."

He opened his eyes and looked into hers.

"I'm glad you came." She whispered softly.

Booth pushed himself up on his arms and cocked his head, "Are you glad I came, or are you glad I _came_?"

"Both", she said, laughing and pushed him off of her.

He grinned as he stood up and started towards the bathroom, pulling off the condom as he went.

He was pissing when he heard the muffled sounds of Cam talking coming from the bedroom.

"I can't hear you." He called.

Cam appeared at the door, indifferent to what Booth was doing.

"Ok, seriously. Why are you here?"

Booth finished and dropped into his best sex voice, "If you're still asking, we may have to go again."

"No!" said Cam, "Why are you here at North Western. You didn't drive all this way for a booty call."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you."

"Fair enough." He paused and walked into the bedroom to pull his boxers out of his pants and pull them on as he spoke, "You remember that girl that I called about last night?" Cam nodded. "Well, she agreed to tutor me in Anatomy and Physiology, as kind of a thank you."

"A thank you?" she asked, walking back to the bed, and wriggling beneath the covers.

"Well, I _did_ rescue her." Booth replied, lying down next to her on top of the comforter.

"Mmhm. Well, hopefully she can rescue you from that class." She turned to him and smirked.

"Thanks Cam."

"Hey I tried, you're hopeless." She said with a shrug.

"I think that had more to do with us getting distracted." Booth replied with a smirk as he ran his finger down her arm.

Cam scooted away and looked at him appraisingly. "So let me get this straight, you're here . . . so you don't get _distracted_ with your tutor?"

"Well when you say it like that . . ." he said, leaning close to her.

Cam laughed and pushed him away, Booth laughed back and continued, "It's been a while. And I'm going to be up here studying, actually studying, for hours. You think I'm going to be able to concentrate at all if all I'm thinking about is sex?"

"So why don't you take care of it yourself?"

"It hasn't helped."

Cam laughed.

"So what, I'm helping you concentrate on your studies and make sure you don't eye fuck your tutor all night. The things I do for my friends."

Booth chuckled and kissed her on the shoulder, "That's you Cam. Always taking one for the team."

"So, what's her name?"

"Who?"

"Your mystery tutor."

"Temperance Brennan." He said, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He was completely unprepared for Cam to smack his arm with the back of her hand.

"Temperance Brennan?!"

"Um. Yeah. Why?"

"I'm her RA Seeley!"

Booth watched as Cam rolled away from him, grabbed the nearest tank top and pulled it on. Half rolling half falling she got off the bed and grabbed her sweats from the floor.

"What are you doing?"

She glared at him as she pulled the pants over her hips, "I'm putting clothes on, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Ok, but why?"

"Because with my luck she's at my front door right now . . . needing me for something."

"Isn't that kind of your job as RA?"

"No! ok, yes. But no! Not like this."

Booth stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Cam sighed and flopped onto the bed.

"She hates me. Ok? I think she's trying to get me fired."

"What?"

"I may have stepped in it a little bit and we got off on the wrong foot."

"When you say a little bit…"

Cam covered her face with her hands and sighed, "I stepped in it a lot."

Booth laughed, "You're the RA what do you care if people like you? Aren't they supposed to not like you by definition?"

Cam shook her head, "We're not in the biggest professional field here; there is a very good possibility that I'll have to work with her, or _for_ her, at some point. I would rather her not be holding a grudge from college when that happens."

"That bad huh?"

"Yeah." Cam looked at him, "Speaking of grudges. This is never happening again."

"Ok . . ." he said, stretching the word out and waiting for her to explain.

"I am _not_ going to have anyone finding out that I'm nailing Brennan's hero."

"I'm not her hero Cam."

She looked at him with a wistful smile, "Give it time." She thought for a moment, "You better hop in the shower while you're here. You smell like sex."

Booth rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

"You're being paranoid," he yelled over the sound of the water heating up.

Cam didn't respond and he climbed in, twisting and contorting his body to get most of himself under the shower head at once. He used a bar of soap to rinse off and avoided all of Cam's smelly stuff, just in case.

When he came out Cam was lounging on her bed and scrolling on her phone.

An involuntary "mmmmmmmmm" came out of his throat as he looked at her.

Cam looked up at him wide eyed, "Nope. I meant it. Not happening."

Booth scowled, "It'd ruin my shower anyway."

"Uh huh." Cam closed whatever she was doing on her phone, "So where are you meeting her?"

"Coffee cart in front of the Library."

"What time?"

Booth looked at his watch, "Five thirty, I have twenty minutes."

Cam nodded, "You better get going so she doesn't see you leaving from here."

Booth opened his mouth to argue, but Cam stopped him and pointed to her door, "Nuh uh, leave. Now."

He let out an exaggerated groan and left the dorm room, passing the same angry looking kid on the way out.

The walk from the dorm to the library was actually really pretty, the trees were slowly dropping red and gold leaves and the air was clean and cold. The library wasn't hard to find, neither was the coffee cart. He bought a cup for himself and one for Brennan and checked his watch, five twenty. As he looked up he could see Brennan walking towards the library along the same walkway he had used.

-_Well that could have been awkward._

_Yeah._

_-Wait, who the fuck is that?_

There was some guy with her, at first Booth thought they were just walking the same direction, but as they got closer he could see the guy was trying to talk to her. She finally stopped and poked him in the chest with a finger, her words were carried away by the wind but Booth could see the anger in her face. He crowded her and Booth had to fight his instinct walk over and deck him.

_-You don't know what they're fighting about._

_I know._

_-It's none of your business._

_I _know_._

_-Then why are you still fantasizing about breaking his jaw?_

Booth was silent. But Sully's voice had taken on a life of its own.

-_I thought she was just you tutor. She is _just_ your tutor . . . right?_

_No. I don't know._

_-and today with Cam?_

_Was less than pointless._

They got almost within earshot when the guy grabbed her again and Booth felt his muscles clench instinctively and he stood up, his business or not this guy was pushing it.

Suddenly the guy looked at Booth and their eyes met. There was a challenge in his eyes and jealousy written all over his face. Then Brennan said something and he turned to look at her, shocked.

As the guy turned and left, Booth glared at him, willing him to come back and start something.

As he shifted his gaze to Brennan the feeling in his gut changed and it hit him.

Hard.

He wanted to protect her.

He wanted to defend her.

He wanted to love her.

And he wanted, more than anything, for her to want that too.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

*crickets*

Anyone still out there?


	16. Chapter 16

So today I was looking at my stats page and I saw that this story hit 300 reviews. And I said to myself "self, let's get that chapter done for those folks." So here you go, enjoy, and excuse me as I try and crank out Booth's next chapter.  
>Also, can I just say?<br>**THANK YOU**.  
>If you're reading this then you stuck it out. You trusted me. You're here.<br>And that means a lot.  
>It was a force of will to read the reviews from the last chapter. True Story.<p>

(deep breath)

Ready for the rest of the ride? 'Cause I should tell you, we're not even off the ground yet.

Note: This chapter runs parallel to the one before it, so this one is beginning prior to the end of the last one. Just so there's no confusion.

Written to: Friend is a Four Letter Word, Cake  
><em>Please for the love of this story listen to this song if you've never heard it before.<br>It's so very what's happening to Brennan right now._

.

* * *

><p>Temperance Brennan walked into her apartment and kicked the door closed behind her, startling Angela.<p>

"Sweetie? Are you okay?" Angela's head popped through the open window from her perch on the roof.

"No. I am in an emotional state that cannot be in any way defined as okay." Brennan said tightly.

Angela climbed through the window to the living room and she looked Brennan over.

"What happened?"

"Michael has completely changed the lab shift and rotation schedule. He _claims_ it is to assist me in recovering from this weekend. And there is no way for me to change the schedule back, because he hasn't done anything that's actually wrong. And he insists that he is making the changes for my benefit, but I don't see how this is remotely beneficial. And I attempted to discuss this issue with my advisor but he has 'confidence in Michael's decision making'. And-"

"Brennan!"

Brennan stopped and turned to look at Angela from where she had been pacing back and forth as she vented. Angela had taken a seat on the couch, her face furrowed with concern. She reached for Brennan with both arms, offering a hug. Brennan sat down next to her and leaned her head on Angela's shoulder, letting herself get enveloped in the comforting hold of her best friend.

"Ok, breathe. What happened?"

Brennan took a couple deep breaths, her eyes closed, as she isolated everything that had gone on that day that had upset her.

"Michael claimed to be concerned for my well-being and without notice has changed my lab hours and where I fall in the rotation priority."

"Ok?" Angela said, drawing it out.

Brennan sighed, "It means that I have access to the lab only at the new times, and should I need to reschedule I am near the bottom of the list, and am unlikely to be able to alter my schedule, should I need to."

Angela was silent for a moment, before responding, "That can't be the only thing bothering you. When your lab hours got shifted last semester you were nowhere near this upset."

Brennan sat up, pulling away from Angela, her jaw flexed involuntarily and her eyes narrowed, "Michael also recommended I work in a group with remedial students. He suggested it will expand my ability at teaching and interpersonal communication."

"But you're not going into education." Angela said, shocked. She released her hold on Brennan's shoulders, but took her left hand with both of her own.

"I _know._"

"Can he do that?" Angela's hands squeezed Brennan's firmly, offering unspoken support.

"Not without Dr. Goodman's approval."

"What did he say?"

"He declined to put me in the remedial group as my focus does not necessitate my ability to teach and interact on such a low level."

"What did Michael say to that?"

"It is Michael's feeling that I have the wrong focus and that I should not be focused on the pure science, rather I should focus on the ability to teach. He went so far as to say that he could not understand why I had chosen this major and that I am not 'cut out' for serious anthropology."

Angela gaped, "He didn't!"

Brennan smiled slightly, "Dr. Goodman responded by pointing out that my thesis work is not only solid, but has on a number of occasions out shone Michael's." Angela guffawed as Brennan continued, "And if Michael is really concerned about who is and who is not cut out for pure science, he should go reexamine his own work."

"No!" Angela gasped before dissolving into gales of laughter, "What did Michael have to say to that?"

"Not much," said Brennan with a chuckle, "he was very irate."

Brennan grew quiet, thinking about Michael's actions, but finding no root for them.

"What?" Angela asked knowingly with another reassuring squeeze of her hand.

"I have always been serious about pure science. I've never been good at anything else." She sighed, "I do not understand why Michael would be so adamant that I not pursue my goal."

"Could it be that he's intimidated by you?"

"That is unlikely."

Angela's face was emotionless, and Brennan knew she not only didn't agree, but wanted nothing more than to address, at length, why she thought Brennan was wrong. Fortunately Brennan knew the face, and with a simple glare told Angela to drop the issue.

Angela sighed dramatically and pushed herself off the couch, releasing Brennan's hand in the process, "Just focus on tutoring Booth and to forget about Michael. Stare into Booth's eyes, and remember how he saved your life."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Hey, if you don't want to stare into his eyes all night then I'll do it."

"Staring into his eyes is not going to help him study at all." Brennan checked her watch, "I should go I'm going to be late."

"How far are you going?"

"The coffee cart by the library."

"Wait, wait; you're meeting him for _coffee_?"

"No we are meeting to study. We have merely selected the coffee cart as the location by which to meet."

"Who suggested it, you or him?"

"I did. Why?"

"_Oh_, ok then. Nevermind."

"What?" Brennan demanded with a glare.

"No, it's just when you ask someone out for coffee it's really a code for wanting to have sex."

"I am unfamiliar with that code."

"No surprise there sweetie."

"Do you think Booth thinks that I-"

"-_no._" Angela interrupted, "I don't think he does."

"But what if-"

"Forget I said anything." Angela interrupted again.

"I have a very good memory." Brennan said with a scowl.

Angela locked eyes with her, and exasperated expression on her face that Brennan knew to mean, 'forget it'.

Brennan huffed but did not press the issue, and with an efficiency that Angela could only admire, she picked up what she needed for her tutoring session and left. She walked across campus to the library, enjoying the biting autumn wind and the fiery leaves falling around her. A familiar figure walked towards her, going the opposite direction, and she hoped that he would pass her by.

Alas he did not.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked, turning to walk along side her.

"The library. I have an appointment." Brennan replied brusquely.

"Oh? What for?"

"I have agreed to take on a student as a tutor." She replied without slowing her pace.

"Anyone I know?"

"I doubt that. He is a student at the University of Illinois in Chicago."

There was a falter in Michael's step, "Please tell me you haven't agreed to tutor the Neanderthal from the party?"

"The Neanderthal race is classified as extinct, therefor there cannot have been any at the party this weekend."

"Damn it Tempe you know what I mean."

"No, Michael, I don't." she said, stopping and poking him in the chest with a finger, "I don't have any memory of the party. What I do know is that I have agreed to tutor the young man who took me to the hospital and arguably saved my life."She spun on her heel and continued towards the library.

Michael kept pace beside her as he looked at her with something of a condescending expression, "Do you really have time to tutor someone? I mean, shouldn't you be working on your paper for the Jefferson internship? That thing's not going to write itself."

"I am not prone to procrastination, as you seem to be. _My_ submission for the Jefferson was sent in last week. Other than my regular coursework I have nothing to hinder my ability to help another student."

Michael was silent but still beside her as the coffee cart came into view. Looking ahead she could see Booth on a bench to the side of it. Brennan felt what could only be described as butterflies in her stomach as she looked at him.

_It's merely my endocrine system sending blood from my internal organs to my extremities to aid in the fight or flight response._

_-Feels like butterflies though doesn't it?_

Suddenly she felt Michael grip her arm and spin her towards him, "Tempe, that's him."

"That's who?"

"The Neanderthal who carried you up the stairs. That's him."

Brennan glared, "Your point?"

"You can't tutor _him_. Who knows what he did to you when you were alone."

Brennan took a step closer to Michael, meeting his eyes with steely determination, "What I know is that _he_ took me to the hospital. And _you_ left."

"But-" He began as he turned to look at where Booth was sitting.

"No!" He turned back to Brennan's fury, "'But' nothing. You watched someone you didn't know carry me up the stairs and you did _nothing_ to stop him."

Michael took a step back, his eyes wide with shock.

"If that's the way you feel I'll leave you to tutor your remedial student." He turned and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, "Who knows, if you don't get the Jeffersonian internship the practice might come in handy. You know, for teaching."

Brennan stared at his retreat.

_Angela is right. He's an asshole._

She turned back towards the coffee cart to see Booth walking towards her. His muscles were tense and his jaw was set, his eyes hard and determined; but he wasn't looking at her, he was looking past her, focusing on Michael as he walked away.

_Do they know each other?_

Brennan carefully thought of any time they may have interacted, with the only possibility being the party.

_But wouldn't Michael said something if he was acquainted with Booth?_

_-No because Michael's an asshole._

Brennan smirked at her inner monologue and turned back to Booth who had almost reached her.

His gaze had shifted and she met his warm brown eyes, the hard determination gone. His expression had softened as well, his mouth curved into a small smile.

And as he came to a stop in front of her she felt the same fluttering as before, only stronger.

_Butterflies._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Fwew. I'll just leave this here while I go work on the next one.


End file.
